…And Everyone Else
by Taylor Hayes
Summary: A continuation of "How Darcy Lewis Mentally Scarred the Avengers", this time with the focus on her interacting with ALL THE MARVEL CHARACTERS.
1. Magneto

_a/n I am not using the X-Men movies as canon for my take on any mutant characters. The only things I'm keeping from the movies are the way Logan is protective of Marie, that Erik and Charles both like to play chess, and that Magneto's real name is Erik Lensherr. I enjoy the movies, but I also have _so many_ issues with them that it just wasn't worth it to deal with them at this point._

******…**

**1. Erik Lensherr**

Darcy loved Central Park. (Despite the previous hostage-of-albino-lizard-people experience.) It was pretty amazing how many different people would travel through it. (And it was always fun to watch the roller skaters do tricks and go spinning and zipping in between pedestrians, causing all sorts of yelps and curses. Thanks to them, she'd learned how to swear in twelve different languages just by listening to the tourists chew out the skaters.)

Her new obsession, though, was the chess area. There were young kids just learning, and pre-teens who either knew they were geniuses or pompously thought they were, adults fitting all three descriptions, and the people over 50 whiling away hours on end playing.

Bruce had let it slip that he found chess a fun hobby, one that taught lateral thinking and patience. His birthday was coming up, and she wanted to play a game with him. But first, she kind of had to know the rules. And yes, there were five million versions of the game available online, and at least the same amount of courses to be found on the internet. Still, she preferred to learn in person, with someone who was intimately familiar with the game, and could explain what she did when she made a mistake.

So she had spent the past week observing, trying to decide on how to convince to be dual teacher and opponent.

On Saturday, around noon, she finally made her decision and as soon as his match finished and the other man moved away, she bounced up from her seat on top of a retaining wall. Walking purposefully forward, Darcy stood to the side and waited.

After a few moments, the man glanced up. He was probably around 60, but there was a pleasant vitality about him, the age not seeming to affect the man. The curiosity with which he looked her over was a good sign, and she politely held out a hand.

"Hi. I don't mean to bother you, but I've been watching everyone around here lately. I'm hoping you could teach me how to play chess, and play it well."

He took her hand and actually brushed a kiss against the back of it, and she almost swooned. His eyes were dancing in amusement, but there was nothing lecherous about it, simply welcoming and entertained. The refined British accent when he spoke made everything that much better. "And why did you choose me, my dear?"

When he released her hand, she slid into the seat opposite him and smiled. "I told you, I've been watching. I barely understand the basics of the game, but I recognize strategy when I see it. You've shown a remarkable amount of poise in your matches, and never seem to rush to the conclusion, suggesting you enjoy the game as must as you appreciate winning. And I've never seen you lose your temper when your competitor is unsure of their next move, and so they take an extended period of time and caution before shifting any of their pieces." She paused in her recital, and grinned widely to meet his approving smile.

"You _have_ been watching." Then he reached out to set the different game pieces back on their starting squares. "And you say you are familiar with the basics?"

"Yes," she nodded.

"Very well, then. We'll begin. Would you like to play black or white, my dear?"

She couldn't help the little chuckle. "Black, please."

He leaned away slightly, showing mild surprise, before winking. "All right, white moves first." As his fingertips skimmed over a pawn, not yet taking hold, he paused. "May I ask your name, my dear?"

She jolted. "Oh, wow. Sorry. I'm Darcy. And you?"

"Erik. It is always a pleasure to make a new friend."

"Likewise."

And then they began.

**…**

It was Day Eleven of lessons when everything went wrong. Of course it went wrong. Because this was Darcy's life.

The threat was really pretty minimal, for once. A bunch of guys in gang colors had run into each other about twenty feet away from the chess area, then started posturing and bad talking. So the players ended up in the line of fire when both groups pulled out guns and the sound of bullets rang out, loud and clear.

Training kicked in, as usual, and Darcy ducked and darted, doing her best to get everyone to huddle underneath their tables, or stay low to the ground while they ran out of the clearing. The metallic and smoky smell of the fired weapons was familiar, and she cursed the fact that there were too many men, and they were too far away for her beloved taser to be of any use whatsoever. Beyond insisting he hide beneath the table their game was set up on, Darcy didn't think twice about Erik, until she got too close to the idiots with guns.

People, normal people who didn't live with the Avengers, panicked. Objectively, the 21-year-old was aware of that. Still, she didn't expect one of the shaking businessmen crouching on the ground would see her approach and grab her, shoving her forward as he used the leverage to push himself farther away, before taking off in the opposite direction of the threat.

Except he totally did, the enormous jackass, and she stumbling toward the bad guys with an unconsciously loud curse, and every nearby barrel was swinging in her direction, and all she could do was duck and close her eyes, praying they were terrible shots and-

Then all the firing stopped.

She peeked out slowly, still expecting a bullet, and stared.

All the guns were floating, unsupported, and pointing straight at the face of their original wielders.

That was when Darcy felt someone clasp her shoulder, tutting civilly at the gang members. "If you feel strongly that you _must_ kill one another, please endeavor to do so somewhere _else_."

It was Erik, standing at her side, one hand stretched forward in the air. As he twitched his fingers, all of the weapons chambered the next round. "Now, I think it best that you take your leave before I lose my temper."

There was a hesitant moment where it seemed to sink in that this amiable elder could and, if pushed, would kill them, before the whole lot turned tail and ran like scared little girls.

Sighing, Erik twisted his hand, and the clips clicked, falling out and to the ground, before he lowered his hand and the weapons drifted down to join them in the grass.

She couldn't help it. "You're Magneto, aren't you?" Darcy felt the man tense and begin to pull away from his grip on her shoulder.

Instead of letting him, she spun and hugged him tightly. "Thank you for saving my life."

He appeared legitimately shocked when he glanced up. Letting the corners of her mouth curl up, she shrugged. "One of my best friends is Loki. You know, the trickster god who tried to take over the world last year?"

His laugh seemed to surprise him.

Then the sounds of police sirens filled the air, and he frowned. "I'm afraid I must say goodbye, my dear. Too many people who play here know my face and are now aware of my mutation. I won't be able to return and continue our games."

Going up on her tiptoes, she pressed a gentle kiss to his cheek. "Thank you for teaching me, Erik."

He offered a bow, like a nobleman of ages past, and returned the sentiment. "It was a pleasure, Darcy."

With a final wink, the man strode farther into the park, and she smiled.

Sure, he was a supervillain with terrifying powers and plans to destroy all non-mutants. But he was also disarmingly charming, and he'd been a wonderful instructor, never let her win or gone easy on her. Not to mention the whole "protecting her from armed thugs" thing.

So, despite everything stacked against him, she couldn't help adding him just below Loki on her Supervillains Worth Loving list.

(A mental one, of course, because she wasn't suicidal and would really appreciate Cap'n Badass never finding out how many bad guys with whom she had an "in".)


	2. Mr Fantastic

_a/n As I've already said, if you like Reed Richards, you probably won't enjoy this chapter. Fair warning and no flames please._

**…**

**2. Reed Richards**

Darcy thoroughly enjoyed benefit dinners for the rich and pompous. They were absurd and snazzy, and all the people were stuck up pricks who could afford to shell out a thousand dollars for a plate of food.

This time around, Pepper had refused to go as Tony's date, and Cap had been busy with a drawing class, so Tony had begged and pleaded and used that kicked puppy look to get Bruce to come along.

Admittedly, it _was_ a science-y benefit (something about the possible favorable uses from some sort of gathered solar radiation…) so Jane, and her plus one of Thor, were also running around somewhere. And Bruce actually found the presentation after dinner to be interesting. Darcy, though, was mainly there to sneer at the upper class, eat food that cost more than her yearly tuition, do her best to herd Tony, and show off her brand new dress. (It was a Versace original in the most gorgeous violet, and it clung to her like a second skin, plunged just low enough in the front to make almost every guy and a few of the girls she met drool, and Bruce had been speechless when he first saw her.)

The student was used to these things being pretentious and full of assholes. And she always had fun messing with their heads. But she had legitimately never met a bigger douche than the man droning on in front of Darcy and her two escorts.

Reed Richards, scientist and leader of the Fantastic 4, the lame, mostly useless superhero group. She'd previously had a run in with Johnny Storm that she remembered with fondness. It had ended with him on the floor of the coffee shop, twitching from the 10 milliamps shock she had given him. (Modified taser, for the freaking win!)

Richards was currently managing to impress her even less.

It had started with the introductions, when he had given her a quick head-to-toe, focused in on her chest, and then dismissed her altogether. And that was just not okay.

Darcy was used to dealing with a wide range of reactions. She preferred confusion, panic, fascination, anger. But for him to assume, based on the size of her breasts and how fabulously they were displayed in this gown, that she was nothing but ditzy and unimportant arm-candy? Unacceptable.

Richards had already been giving what basically amounted to a prolonged and unwelcome lecture on some science thing or another (and simply ignored any attempts by Bruce to interject an opinion, or Tony's expression of exasperated dead boredom), so she took it upon herself to help her boys out.

Untangling her arm from Bruce's grip (As he desperately tried to hang on and Tony perked up in anticipation, because they weren't idiots and knew her _very _well.), she shoved her hand straight at Richards. Instinctively, he reached out in response clasping her proffered fingers.

"It really is a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Richards," she beamed, shaking his hand with aplomb until he jerked it away.

He tried to politely correct her. "That's actually _Doctor _Richards, Miss Lew-"

She took a page out of his book and railroaded right over him, still grinning sweetly as she let him have it with both barrels. "I've always wanted to meet the greatest example of an irrationally arrogant, self-righteous, chauvinistic jackass. And considering that I met Odin Allfather last year, not to mention the teaming amount of snobs currently filling this room, you being the worst is an alarming message, in and of itself."

The shocked eyes and dropped chin that met her words was delightfully satisfying.

Before he could pull himself back together, she patted him on the cheek like a spoiled child who really deserved a slap, then linked an arm through the elbows of each of her escorts. "Again, it's been an absolute treat meeting you, but I'm going to take Bruce and Tony here to talk to someone who has the minimal ability to hold a conversation, and can at least pretend not to be a narcissistic bastard enamored by the sound of his own grating voice. Bye now!"

While they swanned off, Richards remained frozen in place, silent and staring. Tony, glancing back over his shoulder, burst into gales of laughter that he couldn't seem to stop, still clutching desperately at his sides by the time they ran into Jane. Darcy's friend and old boss watched in concerned confusion as the billionaire struggled to breathe through the guffaws. And Tony could do no more than helplessly wave his hand, unable to respond with anything but more laughter.

Darcy, meanwhile, was preening. Despite the fact that he would probably deny it later, she'd even won a few chuckles from Bruce.

And if she could make the benefit fun for her friends, she had fulfilled her evening's purpose.

Plus, she still looked seriously hot in this dress.


	3. The Human Torch

_a/n Remember that talk Darcy had with Coulson about why she needed a taser? Well, here's what happened…_

_…_

**3. Johnny Storm**

It had taken Darcy a while to recognize the jackass who kept hitting on her at the coffee shop. In fact, it wasn't until the first time he tried to grope her and she "spilled" her boiling hot coffee all over him that she figured it out, and it _still_ took help.

He had done some hilarious yelping and seemed more concerned about walking around in a stained shirt than the (hopefully) second degree burns she had inflicted on him. He rushed out of the shop to, Darcy assumed, go change into a new outfit that screamed "HI, I'M A FREAKISH DOUCHE" even louder than the last one.

The gal behind the counter (Sharon, 19, her dad owned the place and she was in college working towards a journalism major. Nat's lessons about gathering information were finally beginning to sink in.) had comped Darcy a second coffee and congratulated her for standing up to the "super-zero jerk". Not getting the first part of the insult, Darcy asked what it meant and Sharon giggled.

"You mean he hasn't tried the 'I'm a super hot, superhero, so you should totally sleep with me' line?"

Shrugging, the 21-year-old replied, "So far, he's just been invading my personal bubble and making comments about my boobs and ass." Then she did a double take. "Wait. _Superhero?_ That monumentally pervy creeper claims to be a _superhero?_"

Blinking, Sharon nodded. "Unfortunately, he really is. He's Johnny Storm. You know, the Human Torch from the Fantastic 4?"

Darcy almost snorted out her sip of coffee. "Oh, well, that explains it, then. Only two members of that group are real heroes - Sue Storm for putting up with her misogynist hubby, and Ben Grimm for putting up with the entire, judgmental world. Johnny Storm and Reed Richards are nothing but ignorant narcissists who got hit by a dose of cosmic radiation and now have delusions of being important and heroic."

At the end of her caustic rant, everyone in the shop was staring. So Darcy leaned back against the counter and winked.

"I sail on the good 'ship Avenger and mock the Pathetic 4 whenever and wherever time permits. Accept it and move on, folks."

Luckily, the majority of customers seemed to agree, smiling and openly admitting their support and appreciation of her friends. Sharon nodded and hooked a thumb back to point at the newspaper article posted just beneath the large menu. Leaning in, Darcy recognized it as the fanboy-written one done by a journalist in the aftermath of the Chitauri invasion. Tony would read it aloud every so often, just to see Steve blush. The reporter had piled effusive praise on the team and was clearly in love with each of her housemates, although a few of the comments about Cap had strayed into the lusting territory. (There was one specific mention of the Tumblr "DAT ASS" meme, prominently staring their Star Spangled Man with a Plan.)

It was a week later that Darcy had finally had enough of the wandering hands of the "Super-Zero". She bartered a taser from Agent Just-Shoot-Yourself-in-the-Head-It'll-be-Less-Trau matic, and the following day when Storm grabbed her behind, she gifted him with a lovely little jolt that left the bastard twitching on the ground. This had earned her a standing ovation from those in the shop, and the promise of free coffee for a month, since Sharon's dad had been (mostly) idly contemplating killing Storm since he'd tried out a very crude line on the 19-year-old in front of the older man.

The next time she saw Storm was at a gala thrown for the "Defenders of New York". (He'd stopped coming to the shop altogether following the _incident_.) And he had been across the room in a nice tux, chatting up some poor socialite who didn't know any better, when he had glanced up and seen her.

And immediately fled the scene.

After Bruce had flat-out refused to come to the event, saying it would be too many people in too small a space, Darcy had ended up coming on Clint's arm. Now, chuckling, the man demanded, "What did you do to Johnny Storm, and can you teach me how to scare off the senator from Alabama the same way?"

"Which one was he again?"

"The conservative guy who says the Avengers are loose cannons that deserve to be jailed, not commended," Clint replied, wrinkling his nose in annoyance.

She slipped a personally bedazzled, mini taser that Tony had made specifically for special events out of the tiny purse that matched her dress and smirked evilly, squeezing the trigger that made it zap and spark. "That depends. How do you think Cap'n Badass and Agent-Do-Unto-Others-Before-They-Get-Dumb-Enough-t o-Think-They-Can-Do-Unto-You would react if we went over right now and gave him a surprise he'd never forget?"

Clint grinned back.

And neither of them argued when they were forcefully escorted out of the gala and told firmly that they were not invited to return next year. Or when they got a heaping mountain of paperwork to fill out the next morning and a long debriefing led by Director Fury that basically amounted to a lecture rivaling any of the ones Pepper had ever given Tony. Because, from that point on, the good Senator Harrison fervently avoided _any_ possibility that he might end up in the same area as the pair.

Which was really the whole point.


	4. The World Security Council

**4. The World Security Council**

Darcy was sure she wasn't supposed to be in this room. It had a very "secret command center" feel to it. This was further supported by the high video screens, four in a row, that all abruptly flickered on to reveal several strangers, all of whom appeared quietly authoritative. The student had always assumed the people running the world wouldn't be world leaders, they'd be the ones pulling the strings. And here they all were.

She studied the divided screen, considered leaving things be for once, then thought, _Screw it_, and waved at the digital line of unknown individuals.

"Hi. I think Cap'n Badass, sorry, Director Fury," she corrected herself. "-is supposed to be the one running this little pow-wow, except he's a bit, uh, _tied up_ at the moment." Glancing toward the entrance, she checked to see if there was any sign of her favorite MOFO, but no one appeared to be coming, so she returned her attention to the people on screen. "I guess you're stuck with me."

Her smile was met by detached alarm, rather than the reassurance for which she had hoped. It was the woman who leaned forward and imperiously demanded, "Who are you, and where is the commander?"

Darcy shrugged and gave a frustratingly vague answer that she knew would probably piss them off. "I told you, he's right in the middle of situation." Because, really, how was she supposed to tell _anyone_ about the squid thing? That was _not_ one of her employment duties. And also totally not her fault. At all.

The man on the far left, who was sort of attractively distinguished, in that born-in-a-suit way, clearing his throat. "You still have not told us your name."

That called for the sloppy salute she loved to offer because it always made a vein in Fury's forehead twitch. Nonchalant, she paired it with the answer. "Darcy Lewis. Avengers Wrangler, Hulk Whisperer, Political Science Major, and Professional Disruption and Infiltration Specialist." Then she propped her arms on the back of the nearest chair. "And you must be Cap'n Badass's shady bosses. The ones who ordered the bombing of New York to save the planet a lá the Osterhagen Key in Doctor Who, Series 4. And you almost got Tony killed."

Their blank pokerfaces were epic, but she played against Agent Cap's-Biggest-Fanboy monthly. "Like I said, PoliSci major, so I can see the logic to the plan with the nuke and the order to carry out said plan. I recognize the basic compulsion to protect humanity and the planet on which we reside.

"However, until my dying day, I will also hold it against you that you put my friends in a set of circumstances that led to Tony basically throwing himself on a nuclear grenade."

This time, the asian guy spoke. "We did what had to be done, and we will stand by that choice."

He jolted at the realization that he had responded solemnly to her challenge.

The woman spoke again. "You gave yourself the title of "Professional Disruption and Infiltration Specialist". What, _precisely_, does that mean, young lady?"

"Oof, nice tone," Darcy complimented. "And the young lady, thing? You would have made an amazingly vexed elementary school teacher."

"Miss Lewis!" reprimanded the woman.

The 22-year-old grinned. "Yes, ma'am! I'm like a professional safecracker. I get invited to different SHIELD offices, bases, helicarriers, etc., to determine how easy it would be for someone to get in, take possession of important documents or items, cause a break in the lines of command, general order or communication, plant anything that might constitute a security breach or physical threat.

"Then I share my findings with Cap'n Badass, Mistress Maria or Agent Better-Than-Bond, along with whoever is responsible for the given location." At their confused looks, she corrected herself. "Sorry. Those are my nicknames for Director Nicholas Fury, Agent Maria Hill, and Agent Phillip Coulson, respectively."

Which was when the Cap'n burst into the room, cursing up a storm and peeling a bright purple tentacle off from where it was still wrapped tightly around the leather arm of his jacket. The main body of the creature the appendage came off of was probably being diced up for sushi at this point.

After tossing the dripping wet thing to the floor, he finally seemed to notice the faces on the screen, and who was in the room with them.

"Miss Lewis, leave before I shoot you."

Darcy just giggled. "You got it, Cap'n!" She turned back to flip off the council members with a grin, then danced back out the door.

The heavy stares of authority rested on Fury, who refused to so much as blink.

Voice dry, the woman couldn't help but raise an eyebrow and ask, "Professional Disruption and Infiltration Specialist?"

And the commander finally winced.


	5. General Ross

**5. Thaddeus Ross**

In Darcy's defense, _he_ approached _her_.

Being a general meant he got information that SHIELD doubtless heavily begrudged sharing. That seemed to include how Darcy was dating Bruce and unafraid of the Hulk.

And Ross took that personally enough to _show up in New York_, have one of his minions _stalk Darcy until they had a record of her routine_, and finally _showed up in front of her morning coffee shop to chew her out for "_trusting a monster".

The only person surprised when she pulled the taser was the general.

He was also the single individual surprised when she used it, and then stood over his semi-paralyzed body and explained, voice deceptively gentle and quiet, "Well done, buddy. You just passed up Reed Richards on my personal hit list, and that takes some doing." Then she went inside, picked up her coffee, found him struggling to get up off the filthy New York sidewalk (Darcy was especially pleased to see a random piece of chewed and discarded gum on the arm of his pretentious uniform and a wet spot on his chest from where he'd fallen in to _some_ kind of puddle. Too bad this was Manhattan and not Brooklyn.), tased him again, stepped over his prone body and continued on with her day.

The 12 pages of collated, double-sided paperwork that Agent I-Will-Hit-You-Like-a-Mack-Truck dropped in front of her at dinner weren't even that bad, especially when it was accompanied by a subtle, approving wink.


	6. Wolverine

**6. Logan**

Darcy still wasn't sure what she was doing here.

Apparently, the newest SHIELD recruits were required to do a whole bunch of training in different environments - the Mojave Desert in California, urban warfare in the burnt out shell of a fake town in Washington, the Endicott Mountains in Alaska, etc. Clint, Nat and Agent Aaron Blake were the ones slated to run this year's training and survival course, a grueling week of traveling and evading capture by the other recruits, in a huge stretch of thick woodland. It was in some national park that SHIELD "borrowed" once a year for the experienced agents to mentally, physically and psychologically torture the rookies.

It probably didn't help that the entire place was reminiscent of the area in which _The Blair Witch Project_ had been filmed. And Darcy had been out here for three days, ducking capture the few times she'd heard someone coming her way. All she had was a meager pack of supplies, a CB radio to contact the trainers in case of an emergency, and her wits, which were currently trying to convince her it would be infinitely easier to simply quit. To allow herself to be captured so she could go home and shower for a day, then monopolize Thor to cuddle with while watching stupid movies in the comfort of Tony's opulent Tower.

Except she couldn't. _Damn_ her competitive nature!

Glancing around and listening carefully, finding nothing out of the ordinary, she huffed in aggravation. Plopping down on a nearby fallen tree, the overpowering scents of dirt and her own sweat left her furious and exhausted. Shifting, trying to find a _less_ uncomfortable spot on the rough and crumbling bark, the anger came to the forefront.

This was stupid and she shouldn't be here! She was the Avengers live-in nanny, making sure they balanced work and sleep and fun, that they ate three meals a day, that they didn't fight or _did_ resolve arguments quickly and without property damage. _That_ was why SHIELD (and Pepper, via bonuses of clothes and shoes) was paying her.

She was _not agent material_, as had been made abundantly clear to her by Cap'n Badass on several occasions. Despite that, she was still stuck out in the middle of the ass-end of _no_and _where_, trying not to get nabbed by the folks who _were_ agent material. (Not all of them, of course. The guy they'd poached from Homeland was young, unproven, cocky, and determined to stand out. The exact opposite of what SHIELD actually wanted. Her bet was on less than a month before he washed out.)

And now she was sulking.

Which was when she realized some guy stood less than five feet away, scowling.

If it had been one of the recruits, she would have scampered away, doing her utmost to evade them.

But this guy was most definitely not with SHIELD. His hair was black, came up in what were almost points, one on either side of his head, and he had a mild scattering of facial scruff and a pair of muttonchop sideburns. He was wearing sturdy work boots, like a logger or trucker, worn-in jeans, a white wifebeater or t-shirt under an open, button-up flannel shirt in red and black plaid, and an old brown leather jacket.

For all intents and purposes, he appeared to be nothing more than a blue collar workman.

Except she hadn't heard him approach. There'd been no warning of rustling leaves or footsteps or even the way birds and animals would instinctually go silent. Add that to the short but stocky and well-muscled frame underneath the boring outfit, the way he moved, predatory and confident as he stepped forward, and the fact that he seemed to be surreptitiously sniffing the air, she knew the assumption was bullcrap.

Darcy was aware that any _regular_ person would automatically figure that a rough guy wandering around the woods in a secluded area was likely some freaky serial killer (Thanks to _every horror film ever_.) who had either just dumped a body, or was searching for the next victim.

Except Darcy was so far from normal, it might as well be another planet. Tony had made her a handy little tracking device that was inserted into the ill-thought-out tattoo she'd gotten at age 14 with a very bad fake ID. (Yes, having the chip under her skin made her feel like some kind of prize dog, but it gave the team a modicum of calm, considering how often she got into trouble. And it was reassuring that JARVIS could track her down to the square foot, if needed.)

And there was also the fun fact that she had two guardian angels in the shape of a pair of Norse gods. It was pretty Old School religion that she could "pray" to either of them, aloud or in her head, and they would show up if they were able or she was desperate. Loki had been absurdly happy to steal her out of a few cop cars before she could be taken to the nearest precinct and processed. And Thor had shown up in one of her boring lecture classes more times than she could count to play stupid elementary school games like MASH and Squares. There was even an on-going comic strip in her notebooks, a parody, noir detective story which she drew and Thor wrote, where the characters lived in the 30s and spoke like Shakespeare.

These factors combined to make her study this dude that could be planning to cut off her face and eat it, and mentally shrug. Maybe he could help her make this into something_besides_ the week from Hell.

So, as usual, she ignored the life-preserving impulse to run and waved instead.

"Hiya."

His brows drew down in annoyed befuddlement. "Who the hell're you?"

Her smile wasn't the normal, mischievous and blindingly bright example, but a weary version of the same. "I'm Darcy. And I got tricked into coming to this godforsaken place for a survival and evasion thing. Care to help me make my so-called friends and the people they set up as my competition look like idiots?"

He stared for another moment, clearly trying to puzzle out why she was so calm about meeting a stranger in the middle of nowhere, or what her angle was, before one corner of his mouth ruefully twisted up. "Sure. Sounds like a party."

**…**

Special Agent Clint "Hawkeye" Barton was confused. Yes, he and Nat had dragged Darcy to the national park under false pretenses and dropped her right in the middle of the training course that a majority of full agents considered the worst part of their first year as recruits. And Darcy was wily. But neither of them had really expected her to do this well.

They had set up a pre-arranged signal for anyone who was captured by their classmates; Restrain them, turn on their CB radio and set it to steadily beep at half-minute intervals, and one of the trainers would come and collect the "prisoner". If they managed to get loose before Nat, Clint or Blake arrived, the capture didn't count.

And this, the groggy, glaring jackass named Gavin-something SHIELD had insisted on "borrowing" from Homeland Security, was Number 5 in as many hours that had a gag in his mouth, was strung up like a roast pig by his hands and feet in the middle of the clearing, and was marked by a bright red lipstick print on his cheek.

He was also the first one Darcy left conscious. And after the strip of cloth was removed, leaving the man able to speak again, Clint wished Darce _had_ knocked him out. Because Gavin-something could whine for the Olympics.

First came the complaints about the training itself, particularly how they had lied to the rookies about a basic weekend camping, and after arrival explained the true nature of the trip. (Was Gavin-something a _moron_? This was _SHIELD_, not the FBI. You didn't get a warning beforehand. At SHIELD, instincts were equally important to the things taught while at the HQ offices. It looked like Darcy would be winning the pool regarding the new recruits after all.)

And then he started protesting Darcy's use of an ally.

_That_ caught Clint's attention.

When questioned further, Gavin-something was adamant that said ally was not another trainee, but some outsider, which meant the capture shouldn't count and "That bitch, Lewis, should be disqualified!"

Clint rarely had the opportunity to drag anyone back to Base Camp by their ear, so he happily took the chance. Thanks to the comms he, Nat and Blake were using, this treatment was followed by a blistering lecture on Constant Vigilance (Lifted almost straight out of the fourth Harry Potter book.) from Blake, who found Darcy frighteningly adorable. Then Nat rabbit-punched him, breaking Gavin-something's nose.

The idiot's next move was to whine to the other "captured" rookies about favoritism and how unfair everything was, when he thought none of the training agents were listening. The recruits were both annoyed and smart enough to knock him down, tie his hands and gag him.

As for the trainees, the three agents spent a few minutes conferring over whether Darcy _should_ be disqualified for using outside help. In the end, they decided that her clear ability to find any ally and charm or talk them into assisting her was an impressive skill, and thus acceptable. She would remain in the running.

After that, finding the last three (and the best) of the trainees the next day, hogtied, wasn't as shocking as it would have been before.

Clint turned on his radio with a fuzzy crackle. Switching it to the frequency the agents had been using to communicate with the greenies for general announcements, he sighed. "Trainee Darcy Lewis, come in. Repeat, Trainee Lewis, come in."

There was a pause, and then the distorted voice of his friend replied. "_I still say you should call us by code names that sound like rapper names. I would have made an awesome "D-Shock"._"

Clint wanted to respond with a joke, but this was still an official training exercise, and the rest of the rookies were stuck in the cabins, forced to listen to the remainder of the radio exchanges for those still in the field.

"Trainee Lewis, we are on a SHIELD mission and this channel is to be used for pertinent communications only. Are we clear?"

The response was discouragingly Darcy. "_As mud, sir. Besides, if you're calling me up, that means this so-called mission is finished and I won!_"

Still in a mildly reprimanding tone, Clint replied, "There is no winner, Trainee Lewis. You are merely the final rookie agent who has not been captured or incapacitated. As such, return to Base camp so we can begin the debrief."

There was no immediate response, until about a minute later when she chirped, "_Can I bring a friend? I promise he's not a serial killer! Probably._"

_Probably?_ Clint wanted to bang his head against something. If anyone would manage to become friendly with a psychotic murderer, it _would_ be Darcy.

Clint was almost positive her ally wasn't Loki, as Darcy still avoided details about the demigod when he was mentioned in conversations with the archer. And when she went anywhere with said trickster, Clint didn't want to know. So it was doubtful she would ask him to assist her for the week.

Which left Clint both curious and apprehensive regarding her new companion.

"Affirmative, Trainee Lewis. Your compatriot is given permission to accompany you back to Base Camp. You have 15 minutes."

"_Well, seeing as we're out eating burgers at the diner in that town nearly an hour away, it might take a little longer than 15 minutes. Although the park ranger who gave us a ride here will probably take us back. His lunch break's almost over._"

The agent abruptly began to understand _exactly_ why Phil was always rubbing at his temples or the bridge of his nose when stuck conversing with the female for more than three minutes.

"Please clarify your previous statement, Trainee Lewis. Did you coerce a civilian into assisting yourself in removal from an official exercise for a covert governmental operation?"

Her happy tone didn't change a jot. "_Technically, Ranger Thompson is an employee of the federal government, national parks being federal land and all. Also, does mild flirting count as coercion?_"

"Trainee Lewis," Clint snapped.

He could almost hear her unconcerned shrug. "_What? He's clean shaven, upstanding, goodnatured, and knows the flirting won't get him any. Also, he just bought a piece of pie, and then split it with me 'cause I didn't have the money to get one myself._"

"Trainee Lew-"

"_And he's _way_ better than the dude you gave me the go ahead to bring back to Base Camp. Scruffy here could still turn out to be the next Leatherface, you know._"

"Trainee Lewis, get your ass back to Base Camp _now_!"

"_Okay, okay. I'll see you in an hour or so. Later, sweetcheeks._"

He should call her on that nickname, except it wasn't worth the effort. And besides, it was far too late to reclaim the seriousness of the training. That was the way Darcy worked.

**…**

True to her word, Darcy was smiling and carefree when she danced into Base Camp with a glowering, threatening man following close at her heels.

Everything became slightly more complicated as Clint realized he recognized the man.

"Darcy, how exactly did you convince _Wolverine _to help you?"

She peered over her shoulder and stopped to stare. "Oh, wow. I've seen the pictures, and I should have recognized the hair, but I didn't even make the connection."

The man shrugged and chomped on the cigar stub in his mouth, silent while he blithely weighed up the camp and its inhabitants.

Rotating back to face Clint again, Darcy smiled. "Scruffy here doesn't really talk much. Still, I guess this way we can be sure he's not going to kill us, collect our livers to make a necklace and bury us in shallow graves."

"Was that an actual concern?" Clint asked.

Before the student could answer, Wolverine butted in, voice low and unintentionally harsh. "Yer girl's crazy."

Darcy nodded eagerly. Clint bit his lip to stop the laughter, then admitted, "Believe me, we are well aware."

… …

_a/n There will be more interaction with Logan later, as I know more about the X-Men and their villains than any other Marvel group, excepting the current line-up of the Avengers. Thus I have plans for chapters with at _least_ 15 other mutants. Like I said (thanks to a "mild" obsession in middle school), I know way too damn much about the X-Men characters. I'll try to space them out between other Marvel characters, but I make no promises._

_Now, hold on to your hats, folks, 'cause we are just getting started! Next up is your friendly, neighborhood, arachnid-styled hero._

_Love!_

_-t.h._


	7. The Invisible Woman

_a/n I lied again, and I am so sorry about that. This was going to be the Spiderman chapter, really most sincerely. But I'm having a couple of problems with said web-slinger. So… Hopefully, I'll finish and post that chap soon. That is all._

**7. Sue Storm**

Darcy respected Sue Storm, the Invisible Woman. She thought the heroine had a second-rate power, but the woman was made of sterner stuff and put up with both a husband and brother who should probably be kneecapped on a regular basis, which earned her points.

Still, making friends with Sue had never crossed Darcy's mind.

Then, on a night out alone (Nat was on some top secret mission somewhere classified, probably assassinating a drug lord or communist dictator or something and had taken Clint and Agent Don't-Touch-the-Archer-or-You-Lose-an-Arm along. Jane had been invited to some geeky observatory opening thing, along with Thor. Tony and Cap were… busy. Bruce had had a rough day and went to bed early with an enormous book of SCIENCE. Even Loki had been unavailable, playing a trick on Logan, aka Wolverine, that he had said was mostly harmless. Not that it would matter, considering that the gruff but oddly amiable mutant couldn't die.) she had been wallowing in a booth. In fact, the damn Titanic theme song was playing, and Darcy hated that song because it always made her feel frustrated and lonely, when a woman had approached, eyes on her phone. The gal had the form and features of a super model, with luxurious blonde hair that belonged in a shampoo commercial and the perfect nose that an absurd amount of women paid surgeons to give them.

Darcy was sitting far back in a shadowed area, and the woman couldn't see her until she had already climbed into the opposite side of the booth. Then the lady's large blue eyes went wide.

"Oh, I'm sorry! I didn't realize-"

In the end, Darcy decided it wasn't worth the worry, and as the woman moved to stand, the student reached out and grabbed her wrist.

"I really don't mind you joining me. Everyone else who could have come abandoned me. Some company would be really nice, and that way I won't drink myself into a boneless puddle."

The delicate, bell-toned laugh was as pretty as the woman herself. "I would love to join you. The friend I was meant to meet here texted me to cancel a few moments ago, so this is perfect."

The blonde ordered a Cosmopolitan, Darcy got a White Russian, and they talked about life.

And that was how Sue Storm and Darcy Lewis became drinking buddies. They met up every week or two to simply enjoy a conversation with someone else who knew what it was like to live with heroes, occasionally joined by Alicia Masters, the girlfriend of Ben Grimm.

It was after two months of this that there came a night when Darcy showed up pouting about a pile of paperwork she had to complete for an incident involving a smoke machine, glow sticks, the subway and the semi-villainous Loki. As soon as the younger woman took her seat, she proceeded to begin pouring one drink after another down her throat.

Two hours later, Sue watched her friend in the manner you would a particularly adorable puppy who kept running into a sliding glass door over and over, as Darcy cheerfully continued on her goal toward complete inebriation.

"Okay, I get that you love him. Really, I do." She turned to stare with far too much intent, clutching at her drink. "But he's an egotistical douchenozzle. You can't miss that!"

The blonde took another sip of her cosmo. "Reed is human, Darcy. Just like everyone else. We all have our faults."

Darcy drunkenly attempted to roll her eyes, and her entire body nearly tipped off the stool. Righting herself as best she could, the student lifted her glass unsteadily in a toast. "You are a better woman than I could _ever_ be, Gorgeous." Then she threw back the shot, grimaced, and wildly waved the bartender over for another.

And Sue shook her head and smiled, bemused and fond of her strange new friend.

Until Darcy convinced the rest of the bar-goers (Sue would never be positive exactly _how_) to learn the words and dance to the Scissor Sisters song "Let's Have a Kiki". The Invisible Woman resisted for nearly twenty minutes, embarrassed for Darcy, before giving in and standing to join the crowd.

Darcy Lewis was not normal, Sue couldn't help but muse while rhythmically clapping her hands. Then again, when was that a bad thing?


	8. Spiderman

_a/n This characterization of Spidey is in _NO WAY_ related to any of the movies. Because I haven't seen the newest one, and I have a deep-seated loathing of the earlier ones with Toby Maguire. Sorry._

**8. Peter Parker**

The coffee shop was cozy, owned and managed by a family, and a surprisingly well-kept secret in the middle of New York. Peter had stumbled into the place last year, after a particularly draining school day, and fallen in love with the small, tidy shop.

It was now habit to come in on days he had early classes to pick up his morning caffeine. He'd noticed another customer, a woman about his age who came in around the same time, several months ago.

She was beautiful, in an old-school, movie starlet way, always smiling, and had the most outrageously blunt personality and the strangest sense of humor he had ever seen. Always candidly direct with her opinions, she never waffled. But no one was offended because they knew her honesty was not meant to be malicious.

Recently, Peter tended to find them standing in line together and talking. He told her how school was going, and she shared silly and absurd stories from her jobs. (He really wouldn't believe half of them, except she was brutally honest, to the point that he'd once seen her tell the woman making her coffee that she needed to get her hair fixed because "The black and orange makes it look like Halloween threw up on your head." Rather than becoming offended or spitting in the coffee, the woman considered, before asking for salon suggestions.)

Based on her unusual tales, and never having been told her official job, Peter could only guess she had several, which seemed to include working at a daycare, an animal pound, an office, and some kind of quality management thing that required her to make day trips to different locations.

Unfortunately, she had acquired a hanger-on at the shop, a buff, blond guy with a frat boy attitude and the tendency to get handsy.

Still, Peter figured she was pissed and would eventually tear the guy a new one, then leave it at that.

Until he was sick in bed for a full week, finally decided to stumble into his classes again, showed up at the coffee shop exhausted and pale, and only when he was almost at the counter did he realize a particular face was missing.

Coming out of his post-illness stupor, he tapped the girl on the shoulder and asked, "Where's your stalker?"

With all the smug joy of any supervillain, she smirked and pulled out a basic taser. "He'd already met my boobs, so I introduced him to someone new: Mr. Twitchy-Shock, here. He may have been the utterly pathetic Human Torch, but that doesn't give him the right to feel me up."

Peter laughed, both incredulous and impressed. "Well damn, good on you for cooling him off. You just officially became Number 2 on my list of Most Awesome Females."

Peter stared at the girl. Had he really just said that? Normally he managed to firmly lock away such comments behind polite conversation, at least until he was wearing his suit.

She, on the other hand, let her lips curl upward and appeared almost proud of the outburst. "You're a smartass," she grinned. "And I approve. So, who's still ahead of me on the list?"

"Uh…" The blush was abrupt and hot. "My, um, my girlfriend. Her name's…"

**… …**

Spiderman was swinging through the neon-lit darkness of a New York night when he heard the panicked yelp from around a corner. Instinctively, the hero shot out a new web, bracing and letting gravity and his reflexes twist him through the air towards the sound.

When he threw himself into a dive and dropped twenty feet to somersault across the ground, he came to his feet and froze.

There was a guy, dirty, who smelled like B.O. and withdrawal, on the pavement, a sharp kitchen knife dropped nearby. But he was the one who had made the noise, considering the 20-something woman leaning over him, her purse clutched in one hand, and a taser in the other with which she was jabbing him repeatedly in the chest. And her assailant clearly could not contemplate the idea of getting to his feet, based on the twitching and jerking and moaning.

The woman was familiar, and Spiderman recognized her easily - it was the crazy chick from the coffee shop who took down Johnny Storm for being a dick.

"Well, this is a shock," he quipped, absentmindedly. Not his best effort, but it wasn't every day that he swung around to rescue someone and found one of his coffee buddies already tasing the crap out of their attacker.

The gal snorted. "Thanks for the attempted assist, Webhead, but I've got it covered." To further confirm that, she reached into her bag and pulled out a pair of handcuffs.

Apparently, even through the mask, she could feel his confused stare. "They're not for recreational purposes I promise. Those ones are fuzzy." Her meaning hit and he could feel his cheeks heating up, and was abruptly and extremely grateful he wore a full-face mask. She kept talking, unaware of his embarrassment. "I blame Nat. For the regular cuffs, I mean. She teaches the whole "always be prepared" motto better than the Boy Scouts. It probably helps that she kicks my ass during morning training when I forget."

By the time she paused, the mugger had been restrained, and she was hauling the guy toward the nearest busy street.

After a few seconds of slow going, she huffed and glared over her shoulder. "You wanna help here, Red? Aren't you supposed to be able to lift a freaking train, or something?"

He jolted and hurried to her side, easily throwing the still dazed criminal over his shoulder.

Which made her glare even harder. "What?" he couldn't help demanding.

Her response was puzzling. "I hate being fragile."

His mouth was moving before he could think, and the tone was that of bordering-on-inappropriate appreciation. "You look pretty sturdy to me."

And she grinned. "Are you flirting with me, Red? Aren't you, like, 15? 'Cause that's a little young for me."

"Why does everyone think that?" he sighed.

Which was when the guy he was carrying finally started to struggle.

It didn't bother Spiderman, and given another moment they would be at a street sign they could attach the man to, but the "victim" reacted first and slammed a hard uppercut into the dude's face. He had no idea where she'd learned to pack a punch like that and was both troubled and impressed when the guy slumped bonelessly, the blow having rendered him unconscious.

"Uh, you do this a lot?" the costumed hero asked, hitching his burden back down to the sidewalk.

She stared at him like he was insane, already leaning down to undo one cuff, wrap the knocked out mugger's arms around the pole of the stop sign, and re-cuffing him. "You're not really one to talk, Red. And besides, when I go looking for trouble, it's the fun kind that involves copious amounts of alcohol, strange outfits, props or drunk friends, and Tony Stark's bank account."

He stood there like an idiot, uncomprehending. "You… you know Tony Stark?"

The pose and sultry gaze that followed could best be described as very Marilyn Monroe. "I'm his gal Friday," came the purred and provocative answer.

If they had been in the country, the stunned quiet that followed would have been accompanied by the chirping of crickets. Since it was New York, though, there were still the regular sounds of horns and yelling and the occasional police siren.

Then she cracked up, cackling so hard she clutched at her stomach. "Oh my god, Red, I can't see your face and I _still_ know exactly what your expression is! Holy shit, that was worth the sex kitten routine." Wiping tears from the corners of her eyes, she giggled again. "Nah. Tony's finally met his match, all gussied up in the American flag's red, white and blue. He still carries the playboy title, but the man is _whipped_ and, for only the second time in his life, completely monogamous."

Spiderman took a minute to catch her hint, still stuck back on the fact that she knew _Tony Stark_. _Personally_.

Also, based on her reference to the flag, she was on speaking terms with Captain America, too.

Who was dating Tony Stark.

What?

"Listen, thanks for the attempted assist, Red," she spoke, drawing his attention back to her. "I mean, you're obviously more geek-boy than badass. Nonetheless-"

"You're kind of a psychotic, and it's sort of awesome," Spiderman commented, turning to leave.

Then he heard her response and blanched, spinning back to face her. "Still a smartass, I see, Coffee Boy." But she didn't appear hostile, and it was the same lightly gleeful smile, nothing threatening about it. "And I still approve."

He swallowed hard, clinging obliviously to the bricks. "You won't-?"

The girl laughed. "What? Tell someone? Nah. It's like coming out, except with less social pressure. It's up to the individual to make that choice in their own time and their own way, if at all." Finally, she winked. "See you tomorrow morning, Coffee Boy."

And by the time he pulled himself together and headed up the wall, she was already gone.


	9. Justin Hammer

**9. Justin Hammer**

Agent Phil Coulson had been having a nice, relaxing evening. _Supernanny_ was on, Clint was home and safe and fast asleep, leaning into Phil's side, the Avengers had caused less damage than expected in their latest, world-saving battle, he was caught up on his paperwork, and everything seemed to be going quite well.

Which was why he should have expected a phone call from the familiar number.

"_Hiya, Agent Die-Hard-is-Based-on-Your-Home-Videos. Listen, can you send someone down to the NYPD's holding cells? I would've called Clint to bail me out, but he looked exhausted earlier and I hope he's getting some rest._"

"Miss Lewis, why does anyone need to come and post bail for you?" Phil asked, the arm that had been looped around his partner pulling away so he could rub at the bridge of his nose, praying the night wouldn't end in another migraine.

"_I kind of, sort of stumbled across Justin Douchehammer at a bar tonight. And may have broken his nose… And tased him repeatedly… And announced to the world that he wasn't fooling anyone, we all knew he played for the other team… And said something about how he wasn't worth the dirt under Tony's feet… And then there was this whole bar fight thing after he pulled out a gun… But I thought he was still supposed to be in prison, so it's really not my fault!_"

Lord, give him strength. "Call Tony. I'm sure he has the money and would enjoy hearing this story in detail, unlike myself. Goodnight, Darcy."

"_Wai-!_"

And he hung up.

It became clear she had taken his advice when, the next morning, Tony showed up at breakfast crowing and insisting on buying Darcy a car of her choice. And she turned him down, gave him a tight hug, and said that all she really wanted was to borrow Steve for a date out to a swing dance club.


	10. Ant-Man

**10. Hank Pym**

Dr. Henry "Hank" Pym, better known to the public as Ant-Man, had just had a breakthrough in an experiment and wanted the opinion of the most brilliant man he knew. After a few calls around to different friends, he discovered that Tony Stark had last been seen entering his SHIELD designed lab at the agency's New York headquarters. (The building had become an open secret to both superheroes and New Yorkers in the past year.)

Intent on any insights the man might have, Hank hurried over to the location, before stopping around the corner to allow his insectoid wings to emerge and shrink down until he was the size of a hummingbird. Lack of clearance had never stopped him before, and it wouldn't stop him now. Within twenty minutes of searching, he had slipped into the room Stark had made him self comfortable inside.

And he was tinkering with what appeared to be a scanner. Except the basic machine was currently beeping out what sounded like… Bon Jovi? "Livin' on a Prayer", if he was correct.

It shouldn't have surprised him when Stark turned around and blinked a few times, then tilted his head, gaze on the 9 centimeter man, wings beating steadily to keep him airborn. "Pym, right?"

Hank nodded, and fluttered over to sit himself on the table beside the scanner. "Yes. I was wondering if I could have a little of your time. You see, I've had an epiphany on one of my research projects, but I've hit a snag in how best to implement the idea."

Stark set his screwdriver to the side and leaned back, skeptical and interested all at once. "Alright. Tell me what you've got, and we'll see."

The pair had been talking for close to forty-five minutes, caught up in the discussion, trading thoughts and hypotheses back and forth like a tennis match. Stark had gone back to absentmindedly working on the scanner while talking, while Hank had found himself zipping around through the air to illustrate several of his points.

Then the door swung wide and a beautiful woman walked in, scowling slightly. "Tony, it has been a long day, so do not argue with me."

Spinning in his swivel chair, Stark's eyes went wide. "You, uh, sound pissed. Like, as pissed as that time when you threatened to blow up the helicarrier and damn the consequences, then slugged Fury's secretary."

"They're called administrative assistants now, Tony," she grumbled. "And I really do not have the time or energy to argue you into surrender."

"Why do I need to surrender?"

Now she started to smile. "Because you're coming with me. Right now."

Hank flitted to a stop in front of her. "I'm sorry to bother you, miss, but I must protest. I was in the middle of an important-"

She didn't even flinch at the strange sight, just glared. "You're Something-Pym, right? Ant-Man? Lame name, fyi, and I don't give a crap about your second class superpower because I'm Darcy Motherfreaking Lewis, and I don't have time for your shit."

The pint-sized hero winged back in surprise and offense. "I assure you, my power is not 'second rate', miss. I am not only able to take my current size and shape, I am also able to grow enormous."

"That's a thing?" Darcy scoffed, raising an eyebrow. "You're power is pretty much based on a hallucinogenic mushroom trip from _Alice in Wonderland_, and it turns you into a skyscraper or a fairy? Really?"

There was an angry stutter from the tiny, hovering man, and from over Lewis' shoulder came a laugh disguised rather poorly as a cough.

Before Hank could respond, she waved her hand, easily dismissing him, to turn her attention on the lab's original occupant. "Whatever. Tony, I'm kidnapping you for Double Date Night."

"Huh?"

(Tony had good reason not to know what she was talking about, considering she had purposefully not told him until now. This way, he had no opportunity to make excuses.

Additionally, she had already cleared his calendar with Pepper regarding Stark Industries events and traumatized the SHIELD scientists into swearing on their firstborn children that they would not contact Tony _no matter what_. Then she had practically sold her soul to get Fury and Agent I-Caught-Cthulu-Last-Year-and-Made-Him-Into-Sushi to promise they wouldn't call in the three she was borrowing no matter how dire the situation. As insurance, she assured them that New York City was taken care of for the night.

And that had been an entirely different kettle of worms to get the remaining Avengers, most of the X-Men, Spiderman, the Punisher, Loki, Magneto, the Mutant Brotherhood and everyone else who owed her a favor to agree to watch over the city. Sue Storm had agreed to distract Reed so that there would be no experiments involving wormholes or other dimensions possibly reaking havoc. Ben was keeping Clap-On Flamer busy. Doom made a personal promise that he would not "do anything stupid", quoting her exact words, if she would talk to his tailor sometime next week to help find him a better costume. And the general criminals of the city had received an anonymous mass text via JARVIS that guaranteed harsh retribution should they cause Iron Man, Captain America or the Hulk to be put back on-duty for the next 12 hours.

Overall, New York City had probably never been more peaceful. Or it had better be, anyway. Because she was losing patience with everyone messing up her plans.)

Meanwhile, (unaware of what she had put in to making the Double Date a possibility) the miniaturized scientist began winding up for an argument to keep Stark in the lab.

Once again, she didn't wait for him to utter a word, but simply dove straight in to shutting him down with prejudice. "Look, Mini-Man, I don't care who you are or how special you think your currently pin-sized brain or power is; I am leaving with Tony if I have to drag him out by his collar like a recalcitrant kitten. He is going to have a nice, boring, _normal_ night out with his boyfriend, best friend and yours truly.

"And if you try to get in the way of that, Tinker Bell, I will spend the next week finding the biggest, baddest, industrial strength can of bug spray in the country and hunt you down, gut you like a perverted clown and drown you in your own tears.

"Got it?"

Despite knowing he could make himself into a 16-storey giant in a few seconds, Hank was smart enough to nod and wish them a good night.

The woman than proceeded to do exactly as threatened, dragging Stark out by the back of his shirt and completely disregarding his loud objections and grasping hands, as he was pulled away from the scanner he had been fiddling with prior to her entrance.

From out in the hall, he heard her voice and their footsteps, slowly fading the further away they walked. "And say goodbye to that Black Sabbath shirt and the grease-incrusted jeans for the night, Genius, because I like a man in a good suit. And I happen to know you own a veritable army of Armani that would be perfect for the amazing jazz club where I booked us a table. So don't even think about…"

They were long gone by the time Hank thought to return to his normal size. Now, he could finally begin to acknowledge the gossip that had been floating around the superhero community regarding the woman.

Darcy Lewis was a force to be reckoned with, and he -for one- would not forget it anytime soon.


	11. Gambit

**11. Remy LeBeau**

"I thought you didn't like him?" Jane asked, puzzled, sprawled out on the couch.

Darcy shrugged, which was a particularly odd motion considering her legs were hooked over the back of the couch while her head hung upside-down over the edge. "Meh. He's fun to borrow and take out on the town. A little too cocky for my taste, though."

Jane considered this, then poked her ex-assistant in the side. "You're best friends with Clint Barton and Tony Stark."

There was a snort, followed by the strangest explanation Jane had ever heard. "Okay, allow me to rephrase. I like cocky men, but only if they have some deep-seated issues with inferiority or trust or self-doubt, etc."

"That's…" The scientist tried to figure out why it made her uncomfortable. "You prefer men who are a psychological mess over ones confident in themselves? That's really rather twisted."

Sighing, Darcy swung her legs onto the couch to sit upright and crossed her legs under her. "I know. It's just… reassuring, I guess, to know I'm not alone in being mentally and emotionally screwed up. Plus, excessive self-confidence leads to pride, and pride means you stop questioning yourself or admit when you're wrong, and that's what causes wars. That insistence that a single individual's view is the not the only one that matters, but the only one period.

"So, yes, if I know someone who's cocky, I either do my best to shock them into falling down off their high horse, or am happy when they have that annoying, niggling voice inside that forces them to reconsider their actions and motives."

Jane mused on the words for a moment, then smiled and teased, "That's the Political Science Major talking." Then Jane tilted her head, eyebrows creeping up. "Wait, then why are you inviting him to the poker game? You said he's a genius at gambling. Won't winning against the Avengers increase his belief of superiority?"

Darcy's answering grin was vicious. "I invited him because I also have a secret weapon. It'll cost me, but it will also be well worth both money and increased paperwork."

At first, the older friend didn't understand. And then she combined the different clues from past tales of poker nights and came to the correct conclusion. And she started to laugh. "You are an evil, evil woman, Darcy Lewis."

The student puffed up like a peacock. "If I'm good at something, why not use it?"

"Can't argue with that."

…

It was late Friday night, and the previously self-assured Gambit was staring in shock as another poker player casually reached out and drew every chip on the table toward himself. Remy LeBeau had just been hustled by the most mild-mannered individual he had ever met.

He cursed heavily before demanding of Darcy, "You couldn' 'ave warned Remy, _chere_?"

She giggled. "Sorry, hon. I guess I never introduced you. Remy LeBeau, meet SHIELD Special Agent and the handler of the Avenger Initiative, Agent Phil Coulson, aka, Agent Deadlier-Than-a-SWAT-Team-in-Full-Riot-Gear. He never loses. Ever."

And Phil simply smiled a politely enigmatic smile. "It was nice to meet you."


	12. Carlyle Pallis

_a/n Never liked him and figured I might as well use him as a new version of an old, obscure baddy._

**…**

**12. Agent Carlyle Pallis**

The first Darcy became aware of the situation was when Clint returned home from his latest pop with two casts, a crutch, and his entire left side battered, bruised, beaten and (in the case of his distal radius and tibia) broken.

The student had known that Agent Has-a-Secret-Mini-Donut-Fetish and Nat were away on a mission. She also knew someone had put in a special, "urgent" request for Hawkeye, despite Clint's handler and partner both being tied up elsewhere.

And his medical state was the consequence of someone's stupid ass decision to acquiesce to the petition.

She had waited until after he was comfortable on the couch, with homemade cookies, barbecue chicken and potato salad, watching the episode of Doctor Who he had missed while out. From there, it was the work of a few minutes to have JARVIS use the backdoor he and Tony had set up into SHIELD's database, find the name of the temporary handler assigned to her friend, and cross-reference against any other possible tie-in with Clint.

Darcy was not surprised to find out the man in question had also been the one whose name was signed on the requested deployment form, and that he had had a friend who was a fatality during the attack on the Helicarrier that had been led by a mind-controlled Clint.

Then JARVIS gave her another piece of data that made her smile. Because the agent in question was currently enjoying some downtime at SHIELD's unofficially official HQ, filling out the paperwork regarding the mission.

A ten minute cab ride, followed by a furiously impotent nod from angry old Priscilla (who was still pissed that Darcy had managed to slip past her and into the facility so often, until Cap'n Badass himself had given her special allowance to visit whenever), the 40 second elevator ride, and then the one minute walk to barge in on the man in question.

He was seated behind his desk, and gave her a quick up and down before frowning. Opening his mouth and getting out half the sentence to ask who the hell she was, Darcy's taser was out, aimed and already sending barbed prongs into his neck and electric jolts through his body.

Thanks to Nat's relentless training, the younger woman was quickly learning to defend herself. However, according to the information JARVIS had been reading her from Pallis' file on the drive, the agent was good at what he did, and Darcy was going to take any advantage she might have.

Including her next move, which was to walk around the desk and haul his twitching frame out of the chair, before driving her knee sharply up into his groin. Then she went to town.

She didn't know how much time had passed before she finally stood back, a little surprised and mildly queasy as she took in the violence she had dealt. Still, the point had to be made.

Pulling his office phone out of its cradle, she dialed 27, the line specifically set aside at all SHIELD facilities to connect to the medical department. (Most often used by handlers upon discovering their asset had lied about injuries received in the line of duty during de-briefs.)

It rang twice before a woman with an obnoxiously serene voice answered. When asked, Darcy simply informed the woman that Agent Pallis was currently "disadvantageous condition" and that she was fairly sure the wounds were "probably superficial, mostly", then hung up.

Before anyone could arrive to pick the groaning, bloody man up off the floor, Darcy crouched down beside him and smiled easily. In an even tone, she explained. "I heard you knew someone that was killed during the attack on the Helicarrier during the Tesseract fiasco. But here's the thing; I don't _care_ what happened to your friend when you turn around and take it out on _my_ friend. You purposefully set Clint up to get killed because you held a grudge over something that _wasn't even his fault_. And that's such a strong example of blatant stupidity it's worthy of a Darwin Award.

"Please take a moment to consider Clint's allies. His partner. His _boyfriend_. Then top that scary list off with me.

"At first glance, I may not seem like much. Still, ask around. And be warned that if you ever pull something like that mess of a mission again, if you _ever_ try to hurt Clint, I will be back for you. And I will happily make it my job to destroy whatever anemic social life you might have, dismantle your network of contacts and safehouses around the world, clean out your bank accounts, even in the ones you have set up in Switzerland that you don't think your bosses' know about, and have you brought in and charged by SHIELD for treason and conspiracy for selling vital secrets to enemy organizations. And believe me, I can make it look like you have even if you've never been dumb enough to try.

"And after all that, I'll set fire to your office, your files, your house, and your hair."

Which was when two people in the regulation blue outfits (except with white medical badges below their collars that denoted them to be the SHIELD version of EMTs) appeared at the doorway, rushing across the room to check on Pallis.

Unfortunately, they'd brought along a member of the security team who recognized her from three months ago, the last time Fury had wanted her to run wild through HQ to test them. And the man currently heading her way had been caught surfing porn, demoted, and then stuck on unpaid leave for five weeks.

The student sighed and chose not to argue as he snapped a pair of cuffs on her with twisted glee, before manhandling her along to the holding facilities.

Shortly after, Darcy did her best to make herself comfortable on the concrete bench located behind the absurdly thick plexiglass wall. Mentally shrugging, she was pleased that the beat down and threat had been delivered successfully, and that was the main objective. Getting away clean had never really been a consideration.

Of course, that was when she realized that she was going to be forced to call Clint and ask him to help get her out.

Ooops.


	13. Dazzler

_a/n While this chapter does technically follow Chapter 12, please bear in mind that these are normally not in sequential order. Anyway, this time, I'm sticking to the original, cheesy version of the character in question. Because I may not appreciate disco, but –like polka– it will never die._

**... **

**13. Alison Blaire**

Darcy had seen many things since the day an Asgardian demi-god of thunder had crash landed in front of Jane's van in New Mexico. Still, there wasn't a single one to compare with the live footage that CNN was currently running.

The 21-year-old was spread out on her stomach across one couch, while on another were deposited, all in a row, Agent Might-as-Well-be-Made-of-Admantium, Clint and Nat.

(Since the whole debacle with Pallis, Phil had been relentlessly coddling Clint, and though he feigned annoyance, the archer kept blushing and grinning when he thought no one was looking. Nat, meanwhile, was doing that creepy "Stay within touching distance to show I love you and can protect you, and silently swearing to break anyone who comes to near or appears to be a threat, as evidenced by my truly traumatizing glare" thing.

She probably wouldn't be pleased if it was ever mentioned that Darcy found the menacing aura of intimidation adorable.)

And on the screen of the ginormous tv Tony had set up just in case Thor wanted to play Rock Band and have the full effect of actually being on stage (Darcy loved Thor and how simple it was to keep him entertained.), there was a mutant fight.

The attention drew inevitably to one particular gal, dressed in silver bellbottoms and halter top, rollerskates on her feet, blonde hair doing that '70s style wave out from around her face, a matching, sequin-coated mask around her eyes, wheeling and jumping and singing what sounded like disco, being as much of a flashy nuisance as possible, her hands creating sweeps of bright light, energy emerging in white and gold and silver that dazzled and burst into the air, disorienting and distracting.

And in doing so, she was saving the X-Mens' collective asses from their villain of the week, a speedster Darcy didn't recognize who had been kicking the crap out of the group just a few minutes ago. Now, the man was staggering and kept changing direction after missing his target, his head swinging round, eyes wild as he tried to focus through the lightshow. It was a futile attempt, and the next thing the viewers at home saw, the guy was pinned down on the ground, a sparkly rollerskate firmly planted on his chest.

Finally, Darcy had to say it. "Who is she, where can I get one, and I am so taking her to the next college party I get invited to. Seriously, for once I wouldn't even have to commandeer a disco ball or fireworks."

"Please don't attempt to contact her. Also, you, Miss Lewis, are not authorized to commandeer anything." Phil's reprimand sounded almost lazy, but then when she peered over it was to the sweet sight of Clint snuggling into the man's chest, so it wasn't that surprising.

The student laughed. "That's never stopped me before, Agent Falling-from-the-Burj-Khalifa-Would-Hurt-Less-than -Crossing-Me."

Rubbing tiredly at the bridge of his nose, Phil mildly cursed the day Darcy had become one of his charges.

To increase the aggravation, she never listened to him. Which was why, a week later, there was new footage playing on the tv. It showed how, earlier that night, an entire squadron of cops had been called to a frat house, someone suspecting the place might be on fire, when really it was just Darcy, Dazzler and Jubilee having a bit of fun at a party.

And the quote attributed to Darcy Lewis that had been put up in bold letters across the recording they were running on screen said, "_Sure, we planned it. I mean, with these two along, we got to have the equivalent of a rave without the roofies and drugged emos!_"

There was a reason none of the members of the Avengers or SHIELD PR departments (both of which had a notorious turn-over rate) had been willing to add Darcy to the roster of those whose social and media disasters they had to clean up after.


	14. Pepper Potts

**14. Pepper Potts**

The first time Pepper Potts encountered Darcy Lewis face-to-face, she had already received the equivalent of a rave review from Tony, cautious approval from Steve, a disconcertingly adorable blush via Bruce, and the heavily edited SHIELD file (Including the direct quote from Nick Fury that "Miss Lewis has all the subtlety of a goddamn freight train, and the charm of a professional con artist", which should have been an oxymoronic description, and yet was still noted as **crucial**.) along with a troubling warning from Phil.

Based on what remained in the file (even after an extensive amount of information had been blocked out) she understood Phil's concern. If Pepper had not been positive Tony Stark and Miss Lewis' mother had never crossed paths, she might have suspected that Tony had an unknown daughter in the form of the college student. The level of chaos Miss Lewis left in her wake was overwhelming. That SHIELD had already researched the woman's background and family thoroughly (including DNA tests) was the only proof -as far as Pepper could surmise- that Miss Lewis was not the offspring of Loki. In short, Pepper did not want the Political Science major anywhere near Stark Industries.

But, like several SHIELD individuals in positions of authority, in the end she was not given much choice in the matter.

That morning, she was running behind. Pepper was never late, except today she was in nearly a half hour past when she had scheduled her day in the office to begin.

First Happy hadn't arrived on time, then spent the entire drive to the SI New York Corporate Tower apologizing, something about meeting the love of his life who was already in a happy relationship, and a long line of tequila shots.

Following this, she was ambushed in the lobby by a rather frantic young man from IT who explained that all the cameras and security badge checks had gone down for two minutes a short while ago. So far, it didn't look like anyone had attempted to get into the building during that time. This left Pepper mildly concerned, considering that JARVIS should have informed her of the problem, whether it had been dealt with or not.

Making her way up to her office, she discovered the PA who usually sat at the desk outside the large room, answering calls, shuffling meetings on Pepper's calendar, and acting as the politely immovable version of a bouncer, was not there. Cynthia was _always_ in first, had never missed a day of work, and had not requested any time off.

Yet, today, she was missing.

Had there been a security breach after all?

Pepper's hand was half-way to her phone, preparing to call Happy, when she heard laughter emerging from behind the closed door of her office. Which should be locked.

She internally debated, before walking forward, heels clicking with each step, and opening the door.

Darcy Lewis was sitting cross-legged atop Pepper's desk, hair pulled up in a sloppy ponytail and wearing square framed glasses, jeans with rips in both knees, flip flops, and a wifebeater stamped with the phrase _Are You Nervous? You Should Be_.

In that outfit, the woman really shouldn't have made it past the receptionist in the front lobby, let alone to the 40th floor and into the CEO's office.

And she was currently giggling while plying Pepper's vehemently health-conscious assistant with candy and donuts.

Although the maple bars did smell delicious…

Forcing her attention back to the pair, Pepper discovered Miss Lewis was watching her with a smile that invited the older woman to join in their amusement.

Automatically, Pepper's lip quirked up in response, before she sternly forced the happy expression away.

"Miss Baker, Miss Lewis, what precisely are you doing in my office?"

Cynthia flinched violently, shooting out of her chair to stand at the corporate version of attention, back straight, feet together, hands already grasping for her StarkPad. "Miss Potts," she rushed. "I apologize. I know no one is allowed in your office, and I only stepped away from my desk for a few minutes to run to the ladies room, but when I returned-"

Miss Lewis cut the explanation short, having not moved from her perch. "Yeah, my fault. I asked JARVIS to help me kind of, sort of, break into your office. No hard feelings or corporate espionage meant, I swear."

Raising an eyebrow, Pepper's response was dangerously bland. "And yet, here you are, in a room that is kept locked and monitored for multiple security reasons. And as a consequence, I'm afraid I'm going to have to remand you to my chief of security and confiscate any electronics on your person until such time as we can ascertain that you have not copied or downloaded anything out of the Stark Industries databases."

Her finishing blow was a soft smile and shrug, accompanied by an echo of Miss Lewis' earlier words. "No hard feelings."

Pepper had read and logically knew how the college student would react, but was still surprised when the pleased chuckle and wink were paired with the assertion, "You, Fair Lady, are a stunning example of all that is exquisitely and acutely badass.

"I offer you my phone, iPod, the USB with my _Politics and Philosophies of the Greco-Roman Period and Their Overreaching Effects on the Modern Political Climate_ research paper and an illegally downloaded copy of the first three episodes of _Firefly_, which Clint has been insisting I watch.

"Also, my headphones. And I would hand over the chip embedded in the tattoo of the Captain America shield on my hip, except that would require minor surgery and cause the team to unduly panic.

"Basically, I bow down happily before your very well-clad feet." The brunette glanced downward at the CEO's gorgeous pale blue, Louboutin, 5-inch heels. "Seriously, who dresses you? Because your wardrobe is absurd and some of the outfits I've seen pictures of online shouldn't look good on anyone, then you stride in and it seems like the pieces were designed for your personal use."

Blinking, Pepper considered the student in silence, then tilted back her chin. "…Miss Lewis, I am my own stylist." Then she narrowed her eyes and spoke, voice cool and holding expectation. "For every week you can stop Tony from causing structural damage to the Tower, and see that he eats at least one full meal a day and sleeps more than 14 hours in a week, I will pay you with a new pair of shoes, or piece of clothing that I have picked out specifically to flatter your figure, coloring and style. Is that acceptable?"

Darcy literally curtsied, her smile enormous. "My Queen, where do I sign?"


	15. Interlude - Darcy vs Therapy

**Interlude: Darcy vs. Therapy**

**(alternately titled Darcy Lewis and the SHIELD Appointed Therapists)**

"Do I really have to do this?"

"Miss Lewis, it is government policy following any agent's first kill in the line of duty."

"You already know I'm not, generally speaking, entirely sane, Cap'n Badass."

"Nonetheless. Plus, Agent Coulson is insisting."

"He has a grudge against the department since they shrugged off what the Tesseract's power did to Clint and spent a month's worth of sessions focused on his "fractured loyalty prior to the mind control incident". So him pushing for this doesn't really fall into the pros column."

"Probably not. Still, policy is policy for a reason, Miss Lewis. The appointment with Doctor Hina starts at 1400 hours."

"Today?"

"Today."

"Fine."

… …

_"How do _you_ feel?"_

… …

"Miss Lewis, Doctor Hina has requested that your next appointment be with one of her colleagues instead."

"Okay."

… …

_"Do I make you nervous?"_

… …

"So I showed up at Doc Walter's office today, on time and everything. Only it was empty."

"He decided it was in his best interest to begin his retirement early."

"Who's taking over my headshrinking now?"

"Doctor Cabot. He has three PhDs and has spent more than ten years studying agents, both foreign and domestic, to learn how best to understand their mental state and help them overcome any psychological blocks."

"Sounds like a blast."

… …

_"I loathe fondue. Analyze _that_."_

… …

"Where'd this one go?"

"We haven't found him yet."

"Can I stop going now?"

"No, Miss Lewis. We have someone else set up to talk with you immediately before lunch tomorrow."

"I get kind of cranky when I'm hungry and-"

"No, Miss Lewis, you are not skipping out on this."

"Damn."

… …

_"It takes one to know one!"_

… …

"I didn't start it!"

"You broke her nose!"

"She called me a bitch and suggested I was a sociopath!"

"That is not an excuse to smack around your goddamn therapist!"

"I wasn't the one who threw a freaking _vase_ at anyone's head!"

"Coulson, get her out of the building. Now."

"Yes, sir."

"And get her back here Friday. She's only half-way through the required sessions."

"Yes, sir."

… …

_"I feel… like acting out."_

… …

"It really wasn't that hard to figure out."

"You hacked into his personal computer in search of blackmail material prior to the meeting."

"Seriously, though. I couldn't just ignore that or let it slide. Clown porn is creepy as hell."

"If I had hair, you'd be turning it grey."

"You'd still look awesome. Next?"

"Doctor Wazmali. Here's the information."

"Right. See you in two days!"

"Shit."

… …

_"Are those your children in that picture?"_

… …

"So, do I have another session with Doctor What's-Her-Face?"

"Doctor _Wazmali_ is asking for a restraining order against you for herself, her husband and her children."

"Oh. But not the family dog?"

"Don't so much as think about it, or I will personally smack you down like the Hand of God, Lewis."

"Spoil sport."

… …

_"I'll kill myself. Or maybe go on a murderous rampage. It depends on the day."_

… …

"Is there a reason you lead Doctor Marsters to believe you were psychotically bipolar?"

"I was bored and she was boring. Next?"

… …

_"I think we should take this time to talk about _your_ mother."_

… …

"None of that explains why the hell he's started crying whenever someone mentions lunch."

"It's a long story, involving peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, and this kitten-"

"I didn't actually want to know, Lewis. Doctor Burns in four hours."

"Two in one day? You're moving the time table up."

"I'm beginning to agree that the sooner this is done, the better."

"That's the spirit!"

… …

_"My inner child tortures small animals. Like you."_

… …

"Goddammit, Lewis…"

"You wanna blame someone, blame Thor. He's the one who gave me the poptarts."

… …

_"I love you. And your terrible suit. And your caterpillar eyebrows."_

… …

"What did I do this time?"

"Frankly, I have no goddamn idea. All I know is that Doctor Talbot showed up at my office, handed in his resignation, and then went and checked himself into a mental institution."

"Cool!"

"No it's not."

"So, who's up next? This is getting entertaining."

"Doctor Capuzzo, 0800 tomorrow, Room 217. Try not to break this one."

"Got it. …Oh, and Cap'n?"

"What now, Lewis?"

"If you want to get in on the staff pool on how many I can go through before the month ends, talk to Agent It's-in-Your-Best-Interest-to-Run-Screaming."

"…"

"Love you!"

"…That girl is a menace."

… …

_"You'll be bringing this up in _your_ next therapy session, won't you?"_

… …

"Hi, Snookums!"

"Hey, Darce. You on your way to see the Commander again?"

"Yup."

"So that's how many now?"

"Eleven. I'm trying to break the record, so I've got a few more to go."

"You know, the SHIELD appointed therapists really don't like you."

"Eh, I'm okay with that. It's fun watching them twitch."

**… …**

_a/n The incident wherein she shoots and kills someone will eventually be written up, and it will involve Tony, an electromagnetic weapon, and a minor villain too smart for his own good._


	16. Cyclops

**15. Scott Summers**

Convincing most of the X-Men to go to karaoke night at _The Staggering Drunk_ had been a stretch, but eventually Darcy's attitude, Tony's annoying personality and Thor's puppy dog eyes prevailed. (Thor and Tony being the only Avengers she had managed to drag along.) Logan, Remy, Rogue and Peter were expected (although the first would refuse to sing a note, instead sitting around to grumble, drink and mock the people who did try their hand at performing), but Storm was a bit of a surprise. She had explained something about wanting to "learn more of the quaint pastimes of this country's inhabitants".

The presence of the final two attendees, Darcy could have done without.

Jean Grey was there because she was still doing her best to string Logan along, and Scott followed her everywhere like a lost (rather uptight) puppy.

They probably should have known better. By now, Darcy had a fairly comprehensive (and troubling) reputation, which they had already seen parts of firsthand. And they _still_ didn't guess what was going to happen when her name was called and she got up on the stage.

Leaning in to the microphone, she waved. "Hi, everyone! I'm Darcy, and I'll likely scar you for life with my voice.

"Anyway, I'd like to dedicate this customized version of Mike Posner's song to a special man, who already loathes being here and heavily dislikes me, despite the fact that I have told him multiple times that he has a nice ass. Thus I am determined to make him even _more_ uncomfortable then he already feels.

"This one's for you, Scott."

And there it was - that appalled expression she found thoroughly amusing stretching across the man's face that was a thin veneer over both angry discomfort and burgeoning anxiety.

The music started, Darcy adjusted the lyrics, and everything became so much worse for the man when the entire group they'd come with started to snort or giggle or chuckle or flat-out laugh. (Remy and Logan, of course.)

"_If I could write you a song to make you nice or fun, you would already be up here, singing along. I used up all of my tricks. Don't care if you like this, but you probably won't. You think you're better than me._" She shot a wink towards the table at large, and couldn't help the little smirk working it's way onto her lips.

"_You got designer shades to hide your laser gaze, and you're walkin' around like you're better than me. And you never say "Hey", or remember my name. And it's probably 'cause you think you're better than me._"

As the beat hit, she started jumping around on the little stage, headbanging.

"_You got pissy lines on your brow, and a coming migraine from your mad face. But you don't know the way that you look when you think you're superior._"

As she began the next line, she couldn't help doing the accompanying, shushing finger in front of the mouth. "Shh!_ I got you all figured out. You need total control just to feel seen. Behind your glower, nobody knows who you even are. Who do you think that you are?"_

By this point, Scott's face was getting red, and even Jean had started to smile. "_If I could write you a song to make you nice or fun, you would already be up here, singing along. I used up all of my tricks. Don't care if you like this, but you probably won't. You think you're better than me._"

She started snapping along. "_You got designer shades to hide your laser gaze, and you're starin' me down like you're better than me. And you never say "Hey", or remember my name. And it's probably 'cause you think you're better than me._

"_You got your nose stuck up in the air, and you don't even look as I pass by. But you don't the way we all feel when you're being a total ass._"

Her pointer finger was at her lips again just in time. "Shh!_ I got you all figured out. You need total control just to feel seen. Behind your glower, nobody knows who you even are. Who do you think that you are?_"

She finally pulled the microphone of the stand and pretended she was a pop star, surrendering to the cheesiness she had created with the song.

"_'Cause it sure seems you got no doubts. But we all see how you think about us._

"_If I could write you a song to make you nice or fun, you would already be up here, singing along. I used up all of my tricks. Don't care if you like this, but you probably won't. You think you're better than me._

"_You got designer shades to hide your laser gaze, and you're walkin' around like you're better than me. And you never say "Hey", or remember my name. And it's probably 'cause you think you're better than me._"

From there, she simply rocked out onstage until the song came to its conclusion, before winking at the audience and bowing for the applause.

…

It wasn't exactly a shock to anyone when Scott tried to get Darcy banned from the Mansion. But seeing as Xavier had already tried (and failed) to implement such a policy, it was a fairly pointless exercise.

And since Tony had recorded the whole thing on his phone, it wasn't long before most of the X-Men had set a snippet of the song as a personalized ringtone for calls from Cyclops.

He insisted it was "damaging for morale", but no one listened.

…

…

_a/n __I want to thank everybody who has been reading these fics and letting me know how much they enjoy them. Special thanks go out to all those who have reviewed through this and HDLMSTA, particularly Vaughn Tyler, Artificial Life Creator, Harm Marie, and especially Booklover9477. Laila, you rock!_

___Also, the Deadpool chapter is in the works. *wink*_


	17. Gwen Stacy

_a/n So I finally watched the new Spiderman movie and I'm totally using that version of Gwen, although not making that movie canon for this fic. She and Peter have been in college for a year in this 'verse._

**16. Gwen Stacy**

It had been maybe two minutes, and Peter was already regretting this.

His crazy coffee friend, Darcy, had insisted that the web slinger would eventually have to bring his girlfriend along and introduce them. He had put it off as long as he logically could, but the older student was relentless, until it finally reached the point that she had threatened to tell his secret identity to SHIELD (They both knew she never would. Still.) and blackmailed him into this meeting.

Now, Peter and Gwen sat on one side of the table, and Darcy was across from them, frowning and listening, head tilted to the side, as the blonde woman expounded on her field of study at the university.

Then Darcy dropped her face into her hands with a groan.

The couple exchanged a confused look before the brunette sat upright again, pouting.

"You're another Science Mouseketeer, aren't you?"

"Wha-what?" Gwen stuttered.

The expansion on the question only caused a further increase in puzzlement. "Do you go into battle with chemicals in your hands, equations on your mind, and the war cry _FOR SCIENCE_ bold on your lips?"

Gwen stared over at Peter, completely lost. By this point, though, the male had been around Darcy too long to be surprised.

"I'm not sure I understand…"

The brunette's pout grew to epic proportions, before she exclaimed, "Dang it! I'm going to have to actually pay attention when Tony and Bruce start expounding on theories in fluent techno-babble, aren't I? I wonder if there's a _For Dummies_ book on gamma radiation or thermonuclear physics or bioengineering…"

The blonde was still slightly confused following the rant, while Peter chuckled, a smile tugging at his mouth. "You know the study of gamma radiation is actually a field of thermonuclear physics, right?"

Darcy's age-appropriate response was to stick out her tongue in his direction.

"I still don't get why our interest in science would be a bad thing," admitted Gwen.

"You don't understand!" came the protest. "Two of my best friends, my boyfriend and one of my arch nemesis's -arch nemesi?- are all in it for the science. And now it turns out you and Coffee Boy are too?"

"You have an arch nemesis…" Peter huffed, rolling his eyes.

Darcy glowered. "A couple, yeah."

"You have more than _one_ arch nemesis?" Gwen was eyes flickering back and forth between Darcy and Peter in disbelief.

"Reed Richards and Charles Xavier. I don't like guys that delude themselves into believing they know better than everyone. It's insulting when they think they can run your life because they've lied to themselves that they can choose for others. Y'know?"

Gwen finally gave up and gave in to the strange experience that was meeting Darcy Lewis, sipping her coffee and shrugging. "Not really, no."

…

…

_a/n2: Sorry this chapter is so short, but the next one will be longer. Seriously, the Deadpool chapter just keeps expanding without my permission. I'll get it up as soon as I can._


	18. Deadpool Pt 1

**17. Wade Wilson**

"Darce, there's someone here to see you!" Jane called from her place on the couch.

Echoing out of the next room came a furious reply. "If it's another reporter from the National Enquirer asking about my alleged pregnancy with a radioactive, mutated cannibal who will be forced to eat its way out of my body, tell them to go to hell, and to quit ripping off plot lines from B grade scifi movies for their articles!"

Blinking a few times, the astrophysicist couldn't help but wonder how common an occurrence that really was, then responded. "…it's someone who says they know you from 'that thing on the Upper East Side, or maybe Schenectady'. JARVIS is showing the live feed from the front door, and the man's wearing a red and black mask and outfit."

Less than five seconds later, Darcy was bouncing into the room, grinning at the screen. "Oh, awesome! He's here for my Japanese lesson. And I need to remember to ask him about that Mexican restaurant he mentioned. The place might actually be able to feed and fill up Thor and Cap.

"You can let him up, J."

There was a pause, before the AI -in a tone that said he recognized the visitor- spoke up. "I must advise against allowing him entrance, Darcy."

She winked. "Don't worry, I'll watch him and make sure nobody dies. Plus, thanks to the tendency of Tony's experiments to blow up and Thor's random lightning when he's in a bad mood, by now a lot of the building is fireproof, right?"

There was what almost sounded like a sigh from JARVIS, then the screen showed the front door opening and the man walking through it, stride oddly jaunty.

"If anyone needs me," Darcy said, turning to her friend. "I'll be in the kitchen on my floor." She started to leave, then spun back. "Oh, and, uh, make sure anyone who wants to talk to me calls ahead. No point in surprising him, he might not react too well."

And she was off, heading towards the elevator, leaving Jane puzzled and mildly anxious.

…

"So, what are you gonna do when one of them catches you watching anime with the subtitles off and they call you on already understanding Japanese?"

"Claim I'm not learning fast enough and you're threatening to throw me off a tall building. What else?"

"Yeah, that'd work. Tin Man and Bow Boy pretty much loathe me, so not a stretch."

"Right? So, guess who Fox News went after this week."

"Who? No, no, wait. Summers? Say Summers. Tell me we got dirty, filthy secrets that I can write on grenades and throw at him for next time we end up in the same place, same time."

"You really _are_ crazy. That would require actual journalism. Nah, they basically claimed that Namor had stock with BP Tanking and Oil. The online shit storm when everyone went after them was beautiful to behold."

"Maybe they'd let me write some of their news stories. I'd actual throw in a fact or two every once in a while. Not too often, though. Don't wanna screw up the world-famous, Fox News' reputation."

"True."

"Hey, who's costume looks more badass, me or that dude with the bird in Brooklyn?"

"You."

"Good."

"Well, who's arms look better in uniform, Clint or Colossus?"

"Punkin, the big guy's got arms of actual _steel_."

"Dammit, you're right. Still, Clint's hair is cuter."

"If you're into that."

"Shut up. Who's butt looks hotter, Nat or Cap?"

"I've gotta go with Mr. America. Did you know that ants tilt to the right when they're drunk?"

"Whichever one of you it is, they need to quit watching the Discovery channel when they're bored."

"Who conned their way into a mob-run gambling den because life was _a dull moving sidewalk of endless tedium_?"

"I didn't know that's what it was! Plus I was invited."

"He wore a suit that even someone illiterate could read meant New York Mafia."

"He said it was a nightclub."

"You were your high school valedictorian. You're not that dumb."

"Okay, you know what? This is all beside the point!"

"Yeah, 'cause the point got boring."

"Cap's ass is not boring! It's a national treasure. Just ask all the folks who voted for it on my Avengers Best of DatAss public poll."

"No thanks. I've got enough psychotic voices in my own head, I don't need the internet. Will you make chimichangas?"

"Sure. Who wears a non-ironic cape worse, Doom or the Vulture?"

"The megalomaniac with the iron face, of course."

"Yes. So very much yes. Even after the costume overhaul he forced me to give him that time he kidnapped me, plus I gave him a freaking underlined and _highlighted_ list of _Do_s and _Don't_s, and still, _still_, he dresses like that."

"Some guys don't learn."

"Killer, you're awesome. You know, when you're not trying to set members of my team on _fire_, which I'm never going to forgive, by the way-"

"I did say I was sorry."

"And I didn't believe you, so we're at an impasse on that. Anyway, I feel the need to point out that your mask makes you look like a blood-soaked panda."

"And that's bad?"

"Well, it's not good. Here, chop up the onions."

"But-"

"I don't care if you naturally get weepy and tear stained and it bugs your messed up skin behind the latex. I hate the mask already."

"Judgmental bitch."

"Psychotic jackass. I heard Hit-Monkey was back in town."

"…I hate you. Where the hell did you even hear about him?"

"I know everyone, sweetheart."

"I can fix that. It wouldn't be hard to scare folks away from you. Some pyrotechnics here, a promise of dismemberment there…"

"It worries me that you seem to think all problems can be solved with the appropriate application of arson, threat or duct tape."

"I gotta be me, sweetie. Even if I'm not sure which me I am today."

And so went the next hour, until-

"See you next week, Killer?"

"Sure, Punkin."

…

Tony saw the back end of the black-and-red, spandex clad man as he cheerfully saluted the nearest security camera and headed out the front doors.

It was less than a minute before he was up in the kitchen and glaring at Darcy, who was sitting at the island, a Japanese comic in one hand, the other holding a fork and scooping up bites of a Mexican dish smothered in sour cream, salsa and cheese.

"What the _hell_ was _Deadpool_ doing in my Tower?"

"Technically," she replied, not even giving him the respect of glancing up from her book. "-it's the Avengers Tower, not just yours. And he's funny, when he's not trying to kill everyone."

"He's a menace, Darcy!" Tony protested, despite knowing that it wouldn't do any good. Once the student decided to be friends with someone, it was in everyone's best interest to stand back and let her.

The response was untroubled and friendly, despite how sharply the words could have been delivered. "Says the man who flies around in an expensive tin can fighting crime, blew up half a lab yesterday, and had to get a haircut to hide the spots where he burned his well-styled hair."

…

…

_Deadpool sauntered straight into the private residence and sat down across the table from the small woman. His face was hidden by the latex, but anyone could guess at the strangely happy expression lurking there. "Hiya."_

_The author swallowed jerkily and pulled her hands off the keyboard. "Um, hi. I wasn't- I mean, I didn't-"_

_"You're kinda new at this, aren't you?"_

_A shrug. "Regarding you, yeah. I thought it was just an urban legend."_

_Reaching out to steal the laptop, he began searching for the Best of Bea Arthur on youtube. "Nah, it's all true. You write about me, and here I come to check up on how it's going!"_

_Minutes passed, before she finally sighed. "Can I get you something to eat, or whatever?"_

_He perked up. "Got any beer?"_

_"No. I don't drink."_

_Hangdog, the antihero let himself slump._

_Before he could speak again, she cleared her throat, crossing her arms and glaring. "You're not gonna set anything on fire, are you?"_

_Deadpool held a gloved hand against where his heart should be and protested. "Shit, Taylor, it's like you don't trust me or something!"_

_"Because I don't," snapped the author. Another several minutes went by, and she finally asked, "Why are you still here? I finished the damn chapter."_

_And he laughed. "You didn't really think that was it, didja?"_

_"…Yes?"_

_"Nope! I sleep on the right side, hope you don't. You write the next part, and I'll be in the kitchen," he announced, grabbing up the computer and heading down the hall, before yelling back, "You want pancakes?"_

_She grabbed a pillow and held it over her face, silently cursing every reviewer who had requested a Deadpool chapter, and herself for listening to them._

_"Hey! You don't need this microwave do you?"_

_She was on her feet and running as she shrieked, "Quit touching things!"_


	19. Deadpool Pt 2

_a/n Have two chapters in one day!_

_…_

**18. Wade Wilson Continued**

The morning she met him, Darcy probably should have considered the weather some sort of sign.

Except the only omens she paid any attention to were the ones in _Good Omens_, an old favorite of hers. (For which she shipped Az/Crowley like a BOSS. Although lately, the mental comparisons she found herself drawing between the angel and the demon, and Steve and Tony, were throwing her off when she tried to re-read the book…)

It was weirdly overcast when she headed out to get coffee. Enough that Darcy idly wondered if Xavier Academy had received a new, weather-manipulating student. There had been sporadic lightning storms in the area, although not a drop of rain had fallen to accompany the electric flashes and crashing thunder. The clouds were an ugly greenish-grey that she'd never seen before. It was muggy enough that her hair was doing that kinked up curls thing that drove her absolutely bonkers. And according to the weather predictor on her StarkPhone, there was a high probability of marble-sized hail later in the day. The meteorologists in the area seemed to be in some kind of uproar about it all, based on a few of the top secret daily briefings she'd had JARVIS pull off the SHIELD system this morning. (It was always good to stay informed.) Still, none of them seemed to have a clue what was causing it.

The locals were smart enough to take precautions. They might not know what was going on, but they were always ready to prepare for the worst.

The tourists, on the other hand, were still out in droves and didn't seem to notice anything strange about the sky or the temperature. Sometimes Darcy was convinced the tourists in New York were, immediately upon their arrival, possessed by the angrily suicidal spirits of lemmings. That, or they were idiots. Seriously, place most likely to be the landing site of an alien attack? New York City. Place most likely to have a supervillain appear out to nowhere and start trying to kill everyone? NYC. Place most likely for someone to get mugged if one was wearing shorts and carrying a camera? The Big Apple. Place most likely for a visitor to have something terrible and science-y or supernaturally traumatizing that no one would even _think_ to prepare for happen? Definitely New York, New York.

And despite all that, the tourists just kept coming.

Then again, she wasn't much better. The average New Yorker would walk out their door, take one look around at the weather, and head back indoors to bolt the deadlock and start putting plywood up over the windows. But for Darcy, it was Summer Break from college, and the Avengers were dealing with something going on at the Vatican. (Not that the Pope liked them. He particularly had _all the issues_ with Thor, an in-the-flesh demigod. But SHIELD liked to keep a civil relationship with the world's biggest church/organization/bank, so the team got sent out anyway.)

Thus Darcy was determined to spend her day doing whatever the hell she wanted.

In this case, it was going out to grab a huge Cinnamon Vanilla Latte and a few bearclaws from her favorite coffee shop, then heading back to the Tower and catching up on _American Horror Story_. She hadn't watched a single episode since January, thanks to her crazy life, and she was determined to spend the entire day marathoning the show.

It was a block away from her coffee place that she heard an enthusiastic yell of, "Citizen, it is time to be thrown violently to safety!" and a man went flying headfirst (while letting out an absurdly girly scream) past her to slam into the building's rough brick wall.

_Huh_.

That was a new way to go about getting civilians out of danger.

Then she turned and took in just who had done the tossing, and all her surprise simply vanished.

Deadpool.

She had been told stories about him, of course. Mainly by Tony, who seemed to hate the guy on general principle (She thought maybe he was just jealous that someone besides himself was the destructive center of attention when the costumed anti-hero was around.), and a few tales from Clint, who insisted the man-who-wouldn't-die had once tried to set the SHIELD agent and Natasha on fire. Which was really not okay. (He'd eventually admitted Deadpool had known the pair had had a clear way out, and had been trying to destroy a meth lab at the time. That knowledge had still not endeared the man to Darcy.) And to finish off what she knew of the "Merc with a Mouth", there was the general memo Fury had sent out two months earlier to everyone even _mildly_ involved with SHIELD. It was short and to the point.

**If you find yourself within 20 feet of the mercenary known as "Deadpool", got the other way. If you're on a mission and he interferes, do not be afraid to shoot that mothercensored.**

Beneath that on her copy, in the absurdly legible handwriting of Agent What-Do-You-Mean-You-Can't-Find-a-Weapon?-You're-H olding-a-Paper-Cup-Aren't-You? was a personalized note for Darcy.

_This means _**you**_, Miss Lewis._

And now, here she was, standing on the sidewalk only a dozen feet away, while the supposed threat in a red-and-black bodysuit jumped around, fighting-

Was that a dinosaur?

"Damn you, Reed Richards, and your stupid freaking wormholes too," she grumbled, ignoring both the velociraptor and the vigilante to check on the man Deadpool had "saved". It looked like the guy had a pretty serious bump on his forehead, and when she checked his eyes, one pupil was dilated while the other was tiny. "Hey, you have a concussion, so don't go falling asleep or the whole getting-your-ass-away-from-being-a-dino-snack will be pointless, 'cause you'll end up in a coma and die."

The guy just stared, stunned, clearly not understanding a word she was saying.

Continuing to disregard the struggle behind her, she pulled out her phone and dialed 911. "Hi. This is Darcy Lewis, I'm on the corner of Prince and Green in Soho, and Deadpool just saved a dude by giving him a concussion. Could you send over an ambulance? I'll call SHIELD and they can deal with Deadpool."

There was a full minute of silence, then whoever was on the line sighed. "_We'll send someone over right away. Thank you for offering to contact SHIELD_."

"Yeah, Fury's been pissed at you guys since you tried to book Thor for that whole squirrel uprising in Central Park last week. Sorry about that, by the way."

"_Not your fault_," the emergency operator groaned. "_Although if you would please stop antagonizing the Chief of Police, Miss Lewis, everyone would appreciate it._"

"But he's so much fun to tease!" Darcy giggled, then coughed. "No, but seriously, sorry. I'll try to back off him."

Which was when there was a roar from at her back, coming from a little too close to be safe.

Spinning, she took in Deadpool, slowly trying to pull himself to his feet from the opposite side of the road, clutching at the arm that the dinosaur had seemed to use as a light snack, based on the chunks missing. And the velociraptor in question was only ten feet away and closing fast towards what it perceived to be easy prey - her and the concussed man.

Dropping the phone, she exchanged it for yanking her newest Tony Stark Special Edition Personally Modified Taser out of her purse, clicked up a switch -one that turned on the setting Tony fondly described as "set phasers to kill"- then tugged on the bottom, spinning the base to change the weapon from close-up protection to a projectile defense, aimed and fired.

Two barbs connected to the taser's body by long strings of flexible metal launched and landed, digging in to the dinosaur's scaly hide. Then Darcy moved her finger to the main trigger and squeezed.

The headlong rush halted abruptly, and a sound that combined a rabbit's scream (Darcy considered those youtube videos simultaneously hilarious and really, _really_ disturbing.) and a lion's roar escaped its maw before the creature went down with a heavy whump, body continuing to twitch and shake. When there was no other movement, Darcy figured the thing was either unconscious or dead, although right now she really didn't care which, considering her plans for the day were now definitively ruined.

This was all Reed Richards' fault. Hell, even if it wasn't, she would still ask Tony for help sabotaging Mr. Lametastic's next experiment.

Mind made up, the student returned her focus to the groggy man on the ground, whose eyes were trying, yet again, to slip shut.

Giving him a little slap on the cheek, she met his dizzy gaze. "Like I already said, do _not_ fall asleep. Professional help is on the way." Picking back up her phone, she heard the woman on the line calling her name over and over, having passed the panicking stage while Darcy was busy with the dinosaur. "Hey, calm down, I'm still here. Just had to deal with something large and hungry and covered in scales."

"_Oh thank god. I do _not_ want Agent Barton coming around to chew us out if you were hurt. Wait… scales?_"

Darcy laughed. "Don't worry about it. Not your division. How far out is the ambulance?"

"_Less than a minute. You should be able to here the sirens by now_," she responded. "_Thank you for calling and hopefully there won't be a next time._"

That caused the student to shake her head. "You and I both know better than that."

"_Yes, but we can dream._"

"Right. Bye."

Hanging up, she tilted her head and she could hear the familiar wailing of an incoming emergency vehicle. It was as she was calling Phil that something wet and red dripped on her shoulder.

Whirling around as she came to her feet, Darcy was already reaching for the trigger to send another enormous jolt of electric energy through the dino's hide if it was back up. Instead, she found a bleeding Deadpool standing there and staring at her. "Hi, Punkin. Not exactly my style, but where can I get one of those?" He nodded to the device in her hand.

The brunette snorted. "Killer, I don't think Tony Stark would make you one if you offered him your head on a platter."

Nodding, the guy agreed. "Yeah, he doesn't like me much."

"Not really, no." Grabbing up her phone, she winked at Deadpool before speaking. "Hiya, Agent Chuck-Norris-Wants-to-be-You-When-He-Grows-Up."

"_Miss Lewis. Dare I ask what happened this time?_"

"Actually, I'm an innocent bystander this time."

"_Really? Who caused the problem then?_" He didn't sound like he believed her, so she handed the cell over to the vigilante, who didn't even hesitate before introducing himself down the line.

"Hi there, Agent Whatever-the-Hell-She-Just-Called-You. This is Wade Wilson, aka Deadpool. The Punkin here just took down a huge lizard I was fighting and I think she's calling in hopes someone can come take him to the Pound."

Based on the way the antihero's mouth seemed to quirk up behind the mask, whatever response he got out of Phil must have been hilarious. "Yeah, I get that a lot. Seriously, buddy, the sooner someone gets here, the better, since I'm planning to take the lady out to get something food or maybe we'll hang around a power plant. And that means there's gonna be a giant, people-eating lizard lying around on the street until someone comes to grab it. Might wanna hurry." Before Phil had the chance to respond, Deadpool was already hanging up and tossing the phone back to Darcy, who raised an eyebrow.

"Dinner and a date to a power plant?"

He nodded. "I was guessing you've got an electricity fetish. But if not, everybody loves to eat, right?"

And she couldn't argue with that.

The evening was interesting, chaotic and a little bit crazy, particularly when she was introduced to each of Wade's personalities (Who all made an appearance at one point or another to mention the dispatching of the dinosaur, or her ass.), and she enjoyed the mad dash of fun.

…

When he said he wanted to take her to his favorite place in the world, she had not expected a shooting range proudly bearing a sign that "You can take a shot at the so-called supers!" And the advertisement hadn't lied - for a few extra bucks, the employees would switch out the basic targets to ones that looked like the superhero or villain of their choosing.

While the guy who worked at the range set up a pile of paper Mr. Fantastics for Darcy, Deadpool contemplated his choices. Darcy hung up the cut out of her archnemesis, and pushed the button that made it slide all the way to the opposite end of the building, before looking toward her companion and clearing her throat.

He glanced up. "I can't decide between Wolverine and Daredevil. Whadya think?"

"I think I need a gun," she smiled

Wade paused, then unholstered a weapon and tossed it her way, immediately going back to the binder full of pictures that the employee had offered him.

The student barely managed to catch his throw, fumbling momentarily, before holding it steady and demanding, "Did you seriously just chuck a gun at me?"

Blinking, the mercenary nodded. "You mean the Ruger?"

"The Ruger Super Blackhawk 44 Magnum? Yeah, I live with the Black Widow and Hawkeye, I know what it is, dumbass," snorted Darcy. "It's got a barrel as long as a baby's arm, and the kick back if I held this wrong would probably break my nose."

"Yeah, I guess." He went back to the pictures before calling over the employee and pointing at one. In no time at all he was shooting his own weapons recklessly down the room at a picture of his on-again-off-again ally Weasel, and she stood aside and let him expend the mags before stepping up beside him.

"I can see _you_ like your weaponry, but haven't you got anything else I could fire?"

Immediately, he spun, bouncing on his feet, before grabbing her arm and hustling her away.

Not twenty minutes later, she was standing next to Deadpool as he talked with his current arms dealer in a shady warehouse, before the tiny, weasel-like man handed over a weapon that was passed straight on into Darcy's hands.

And that was how she found herself in the possession of a rocket launcher while her new friend tried on a military grade flamethrower for size.

…

They were lounging casually outside a restaurant and fought not to laugh when the pizza delivery guy headed straight inside and stood there, looking bored.

Listening in, they heard the angry whispers as the maitre de told the dude to go the hell away, and the man refused.

"This is a restaurant! A _vegan_ restaurant! No one here would order a large meat lover's pizza!"

"Are you Skylar Hickory, or not?"

(Deadpool leaned over to her at this point and whispered, "Pretentious hippy name plus refusal to eat meat. This guy totally deserves it.")

"Yes, but I didn't-"

"It's been prepaid for, so I'm leaving it here for you, whether you wanna eat it now, or wait until all your PETA friends are gone. Later." Dropping the cardboard container on the front counter, the pizza man headed straight back out the door.

And the maitre de stood there, face an unhealthy shade of rage red as he stared back over his shoulder to the pile of five other meat lover's pizzas that had already been delivered, and then took in the judgmental stares and angry whispers of the establishment's patrons.

Giggling, Darcy knocked her shoulder against the antihero's, who continued to utterly fail at blending in, before asking, "How many more, you think, before he cracks and starts breaking things?"

Wade was already running his finger down through the list of pizza places printed in the phonebook he'd stolen, and dialing.

…

The food cart was as unassuming as most of the ones scattered around the city. Yet Deadpool had been insistent that they stop there for food. "The souvlaki is awesome."

When the vigilante nodded to the guy manning the food cart only to get a glare in return, Darcy started to wonder if this was really a good idea.

Luckily, they were interrupted from ordering by the appearance of the reason for the day's odd weather patterns. An previously unheard of villain, who fell right out of the sky, was wearing a terrible shade of orange for an outfit, and proclaimed to all and sundry (Despite the locals in the area paying attention only long enough to get inside the nearest protective buildings before complaining about how this was going to lengthen their commute times.) that he was, "Wind King! The next ruler of Earth!"

Deadpool took in the guy, before throwing his head back with derisive laughter, and wiggling his eyebrows at the student beside him. "Wanna teach this fellow how New Yorkers roll?"

Darcy's grin was pleased, and she winked, pulling out the now re-charged taser (another of Tony's devices recharged her electronics simply by being within a foot of them and she tended to keep it in her purse) in one hand and the Glock 17 Nat had gifted her on her last birthday in the other. "Let's."

The Greek dishes were as good as promised, after they'd knocked out and handcuffed the weather-manipulating, second-rate baddie, and Darcy, at least, made sure the man with the cart -who didn't seem to speak a word of English- was both thanked and paid for the food.

Then she put in a second call to SHIELD, this time to pick up the idiot mutant instead of a dino, and she and Deadpool moved on to the next location on their Day of Crazy.

…

Really, the less said about the Chuck-E-Cheese Incident, the better. All Darcy could think the entire time they were inside was, _I really hope this doesn't end up in any of my government agency files. That would suck._

Then she rolled back her shoulders and gave the war cry, "For Asgard!" (Nowhere near as hilarious as the earlier "_Leroooooooy Jenkiiiiiiiins!_" yell of her companion.) before diving recklessly into the ball pit.

She walked away from the building a short while later with a stuffed, plushie koala nearly as big as she was, a remote control car, a cheap plastic necklace with bright pink flowers, and the real sapphire ring that was meant to be impossible to win, since it cost nearly 50,000 tickets.

Deadpool was at her side, humming something that sounded suspiciously like the One Direction song _Summer Love_, snacking on cotton candy and carrying the blood-and-possibly-puke-stained head from the mascot mouse costume slung over his shoulder.

It was probably a good thing they'd gotten out of there a few minutes before the police arrived.

…

At the end of the day, when she finally arrived back at the Tower, there was an entire contingent of SHIELD agents gathered outside the building (JARVIS was still unwilling to let anyone who worked for the government agency, beyond those whom Tony had given his stamp of approval, into the Tower itself.) and waiting impatiently to debrief her.

She dropped a kiss on Deadpool's masked cheek and waved him goodbye. He flipped off the agents and walked away. And then the lackeys attempted to descend on the student.

Who raised an eyebrow, rolled her eyes, and walked past them all straight into the building, the doors locking them out behind her. Through the glass, she waved and called back, "I'll tell Agent Do-Not-Mess-Up-the-Paperwork -or-I'll-Staple-Your-Head-to-the-Wall about my day later. But I'm tired, so I think I'll order in Chinese and read the latest Dresden Files book. Later, guys!"

The twelve angry calls she got shortly thereafter from Cap'n Badass were totally worth it.

…

…

_"We finished?" she asked, turning toward her unwelcome guest._

_The man threw another knife at the bullseye he had spray painted onto the wall earlier. "With this chapter? Yeah, I suppose. But don't worry, I bet we'll see each other again. Just think of all the reviewer requests!"_

_Taylor's response was vitriolic. "I think I hate you."_

_"You wouldn't be the first, Tay-Tay," he replied with a chuckle._


End file.
